


Hot and Cold

by justheretoreadhannibalfics



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Equilibrium - Freeform, Hot and Cold, M/M, Soulmate AU, basically one soulmate is warm, so they are the right temperature, the other is cold, when they are together they create equilibrium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2020-05-31 12:09:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 49
Words: 58,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19425697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justheretoreadhannibalfics/pseuds/justheretoreadhannibalfics
Summary: Soulmate AU where each half of a pair is slightly to one side of perfect body temperature(no health risk involved typically) and when a person meets their soulmate, they balance each other out.





	1. Touch of Cold

Hannibal felt his skin chill again and wondered what it meant. He had never met anyone else whose temperature changed so drastically and frequently. Typically, people would remain the same temperature unless their soulmate was outside in extreme weather, or they were. 

His temperature had been undulating in waves since he could remember, causing him to be incredibly cold one moment before he would feel his body rush back to warmth as if he were stepping from a freezer into a warm kitchen.

He had never heard of anything like it.

The man across from him shivered slightly and pulled his coat tighter around his torso. Franklyn was one of the cold ones. He stayed within a few degrees, of course, as was usual, but he was the cold half.

The hour was up and Hannibal ushered Franklyn out.

There was a man waiting there and Hannibal took his hand.

Jack Crawford was most definitely the warm half of his pair, the contrast in temperature nearly causing Hannibal to tear his hand away from the handshake. He hoped the man’s wife was fond of her cool skin, as it was not something most people preferred.

“Alana bloom recommended you to me,” Jack said, putting Hannibal’s mind at ease. 

It would not do well for him to have to kill Jack in his office just now. 

“I need your help building a profile.”


	2. Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically canon compliant, but that is soon to change. Have fun my dears.

Will could feel the sweat threatening to trickle down the back of his neck. He hated not being able to predict his temperature. 

There was supposed to be one warm one and one cool one, right? Then why was his temperature always changing?

The thought had occurred to him before that he may just not have a soulmate, and he was actually fine with that. He wasn’t really the type of person people wanted to be with anyway.

He took a sip of his coffee as Jack continued talking about the case. The coffee had cooled down too much by now to be very good, but Will needed the caffeine.

He spared the other man in the room hardly a glance as he walked back and forth, looking at the pictures and maps Jack had pinned up.

“Tasteless,” Will said when Jack took a breath. 

The man turned to him with amusement.

“Do you have trouble with taste?” he asked.

Will sipped his coffee some more, trying to not think too hard about the ‘tastes’ he had to deal with.

“My thoughts are often not tasty,” he replied.

“Nor mine,” said the man easily, “No effective barriers.”

Will frowned into his mug.

“I build forts,” he said.

“Associations come quickly,” the man observed, walking over to sit next to Will.

“So do forts,” Will defended, though he wasn’t sure why he was defensive.

He kept his eyes on the pictures strewn across Jack’s desk and on the mug in his hands, trying with all his might not to meet the eyes of this “Doctor” that Jack had invited. He knew the man would likely try to glean something from his facial expressions, so he didn’t intend to make it easy on him.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” he asked.

Oh, that was it. Will couldn’t effectively avoid conversation with the guy anymore. He hated it when people analyzed him. It was intrusive, and something he, himself, tried to reserve for people that needed to be stopped.

“Eyes are distracting,” he said, raising his gaze, but not meeting the other man’s yet, “See too much, or not enough. And it’s hard to focus when you’re thinking-”

He faltered for a moment when he did meet the man’s gaze and he was staring at him with intense amusement and curiosity.

He continued with his train of thought, though the words were more of a recitation now than actually meaning anything. He finally tore his gaze away and returned them to his mug.

“So yeah, I try to avoid eyes whenever possible.”

He felt like a liar, knowing he had just locked eyes with the man for much longer than he had needed to, but he wanted the conversation to be over.

He found his eyes locked with Dr Lecter’s again, as the man analyzed everything he had just said. He seemed to have some background knowledge of Will’s ability, and he cut deep with his words. The way he phrased it was almost poetic, but Will knew what was in his head didn’t deserve that kind of articulation.

“Whose profile are you working on?” he asked, noting the strange tone of betrayal in his own voice before turning it to Jack, “Whose profile is he working on?”

Jack looked more exasperated than anything, but was saved by Dr Lecter replying in his stead.

“I’m sorry, Will,” he began, shifting in his seat, “Observing is what we do, I can’t shut mine off anymore than you can shut yours off.”

Will fumed. 

Will was capable of shutting his off, in a way. He was always observing, but he didn’t waste his time connecting the dots unless he needed to, mostly for cases. He hated to be analyzed. It made him feel like a specimen under glass.

He directed the next words more at Jack than at Dr Lecter, because he knew whose idea the entire setup must have been.

“Please, don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed,” He said, getting up and leaving the coffee on the desk. It was too cool now anyway.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture, on psychoanalyzing.”

He snatched his coat and walked out the door, aware that Jack had said his name, but also knowing that he hadn’t really expected Will to stop. 

He frowned at his coat, feeling silly for having brought it as he was feeling nearly feverish with heat at the moment. He rolled up his sleeves and slung the coat over his arm on the way to the lecture hall. 

He would probably want it later, since he likely didn’t have anyone’s temperature to counterbalance.

Well that had just gone swell.


	3. Cold Shoulder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast time

Hannibal thought that had gone fairly well. 

It had not escaped his notice that Will had seemed uncomfortably warm for the entire meeting, but that was far from extraordinary. 

He, himself, had been irritatingly cold, despite his layers of clothes. He studied the evidence Jack had mapped out and smiled.

Will may not be who Hannibal was supposed to find, but he would be an entertainment nonetheless. He was fascinating as a person, and Hannibal would like for them to be friends.

“I think I can help good Will see his face.”

\---

Will opened the door and Hannibal smiled politely. Will seemed to have just woken up, and his hair was still ruffled from sleep.

He looked at Hannibal like he was a ghost, and Hannibal took no small amount of pleasure to see that Will made no attempt to avoid eye contact, not even getting his glasses, which Hannibal suspected were mostly used for just that reason.

“May I come in?”

Will looked him over quickly, making a half nod before turning away and walking further into the room.

Hannibal fed him breakfast and noticed that Will seemed to be feeling a bit less warm than the day before. He noted that he was feeling less cold himself, and couldn’t hide a small smile at the thought.

“What are you smiling about?” Will asked gruffly.

Hannibal raised his hands a touch in an aborted shrug.

“I noticed you felt overly warm the other day,” he admitted, “though you seem to be doing well today.”

Will grimaced.

“Yeah, well, I probably don’t have anyone out there for me,” he confessed, “My temp is erratic and weird. Not that I’m really relationship material.”

He moved the food around on his plate a bit before scooping some up and shoving it in his mouth. He made a grunt of approval when he tasted it, and Hannibal nodded lightly.

“You and I have much in common, it seems,” he said, “My temperature undulates as well, and I find it rare when I enjoy anyone’s company.”

Will studied Hannibal for a moment, assessing whether he was trying to make some sort of point, but he shrugged and returned to his food.

“I’m not a people person,” he stated.

“Indeed,” Hannibal replied, “Jack tells me you have a talent for the monsters.” 

Will huffed.

“Yeah. He says stuff like that.”

Hannibal watched Will eat a few more bites and then continued.

“I apologize for my analytical ambush, though I think I am likely to be in a similar situation, and you would tire of my apologies eventually. I must use them sparingly.”

Will hummed in agreement.

“Just try not to do that anymore. You said you can’t turn it off anymore than I can. I seem to be more able to turn it off than you. I save my observations for the monsters, or I keep them to myself if it’s not relevant to the case.”

Hannibal thought his eyes may have been sparkling with interest at that point.

“Do you feel it intrusive to analyze the people in your life?” He asked, knowing Will was fully capable of taking offense to his curiosity.

Luckily, he didn’t.

“I don’t like to have people poke around in my head,” he explained, “and I’ve found that people typically don’t like having me poke around in theirs either, so I try to leave it alone.”

Hannibal nodded.

“You probably find that there are many people who would like the opportunity to sift through your mind. Jack Crawford is a fair example,” He observed.

Will frowned, glancing up and locking eyes.

“Jack doesn’t care about what goes on in my head,” he defended, “He wants me to figure out what goes on in the killers’ heads.”

Hannibal thought that was a very clever way to put it, though it deflected the blame away from Jack, who was obviously manipulating Will for his own purposes. Will probably felt he was doing something just and good by helping find the killers, using that to justify the abuse of his mental health.

“I don’t think the shrike killed that girl in the field,” Will said, changing the subject abruptly.

Hannibal nodded.

“So what was the difference in the killers’ heads?” he asked, “What gave it away?”

Will almost chuckled, settling for an amused huff of air as he leaned back in the chair. His brow furrowed uneasily.

“Everything,” he breathed, “It was like he had to show me a negative so I could see the positive. That crime scene was practically gift wrapped.”

Ah, so he picked up on that. Very good. Hannibal had worried the gift would be lumped in with the killings of the shrike, and his art would go unappreciated. Will was doing well.

Hannibal felt a rush of cold and barely suppressed a shiver.

Across the table, Will broke out into a sweat that began to soak into his shirt.

Will cursed under his breath and rubbed his forehead, brushing a few locks of his curly hair back. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, finishing his food off, “I’ll go get dressed. You can wait here I guess.”

He stood and grabbed some clothes from the duffel bag at the foot of the bed before making his way to the bathroom.

Hannibal sat watching him, nearly motionless. He heard the water turn on for a shower and his skin warmed up.

Very interesting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the first couple chapters were not very new, or exciting. I'm sorry, but I hope you enjoy the story anyways.


	4. Warm Up

Will saw the goosebumps on Hannibal’s skin when they got in the car, so he resigned to be uncomfortable as he didn’t crank the air conditioning up to full blast. 

He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows and regretted the fact that he liked long sleeved shirts. He was really bad at thinking ahead for this kind of thing.

He brushed his wet hair out of his face as they drove and frowned to himself. 

Jack wanted him to go looking through files. He would have to talk to someone for that. He anticipated the stress of having to be sociable and felt a headache climbing up the back of his head.

Hannibal shifted slightly in his seat, bringing Will’s attention back to the present. 

He felt a slight release of pressure at the thought of going with Hannibal. Having another person there, especially one on his side, always made it a bit easier to act personable.

They pulled up and Will glanced at his companion, taking note of the subtle smile on Hannibal’s lips.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.

Hannibal surveyed their surroundings with an amused look.

“I’m curious to see how the FBI works outside of the public eye,” he explained, “What are we looking for today?”

Will grimaced, anticipation of the inevitable socializing resettling in his mind.

“Anything peculiar,” he said. 

He studied Hannibal for a moment before continuing.

“Jack wants me to help with the paperwork this time through, because I’m in the guy’s head. I know how he thinks, so I’ll be more able to know what counts as peculiar.”

Hannibal nodded and they got out of the car.

Hannibal held the door open for Will and Will gave him a small smile of thanks, barely glancing up to meet his eyes as he walked in.

Will felt his shoulder brush Hannibal as he walked in and he grimaced at himself for doing that. He tried to avoid physical contact if he could, for his comfort, and the comfort of those around him.

He continued to the desk, noting the woman behind it. She did not seem to be happy to see them, though he didn’t blame her for that. She was wearing long sleeves and a scarf. She was most likely the cold one of her pair.

Her attitude matched her temperature.

\---

“Garrett Jacob Hobbes?” Will asked.

The woman turned her cold eyes to him again and Will tried to ignore her as much as possible.

“What did you find?” Hannibal asked when she had turned to her books to look for more information for them.

Hannibal was leaning in close, and Will felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He showed the file to Hannibal with a shrug.

“He left a phone number, but no address,” he said.

Hannibal nodded, not moving away at all.

“And this is peculiar,” he said, “because you are in his head.”

Will grimaced. He turned and met Hannibal’s gaze.

Hannibal’s eyes were warm and friendly when he met them and Will almost forgot what he was going to say.

“Uh, yeah, sort of,” he said, swallowing, “Everyone else left an address. It’s the kind of thing he would do, I think.”

Hannibal hummed in agreement, leaning back away and scanning through the file he held in his hands.

Will felt like he had just surface from underwater and could breathe again. He hadn’t even realized that his breathing had shallowed, but he was in need of oxygen suddenly. He turned back to the file, but his eyes didn’t focus.

He was keenly aware in the next moment that he wasn’t overly warm anymore. He was actually a comfortable temperature. That was odd.


	5. Cold Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail Hobbs

Will hadn’t seemed to notice. 

That was what bothered Hannibal. 

The moment Will’s shoulder had brushed him, Hannibal had felt warm and comfortable. He remained that way until Will had left him to call Jack. 

Perhaps that is why he had called the Shrike. 

He was still fuzzy on the details. 

Hannibal wanted Will to know. He wanted Will to realize. Hannibal needed some way to push him into the truth, and he had made a decision somewhat impulsively.

They pulled up to the house and Hannibal was fairly sure of what was to be expected, but what he wanted to have happen was still unclear.

Perhaps Will would get injured. That would give Hannibal a very good excuse to initiate physical contact. In the emotional moment, Will would surely look to Hannibal and realize.

But there was no way to guarantee that as the outcome.

Hannibal let Will go in first, taking stock of his temperature at the time. He was feeling warm, nearing feverish, which was odd, even for him.

The woman stumbled out the door and Hannibal stopped. 

Will seemed to forget that Hannibal was there as he drew his gun and entered the house after the woman died. Hannibal walked carefully up to the house.

Will’s eyes were so brilliantly wise in his panic. The fear accentuated the old soul that stared out at him. 

Hannibal moved around the girl and had to grasp Will’s hands to move them away from the wound so he could properly work on it.

Hannibal felt his skin cool instantly, creating a much more comfortable temperature to work in. He was grateful for the change, as he wasn’t fond of working with sweaty hands.

He angled the girl’s head and applied pressure to the cut, but she was losing blood at a fast pace.

Looking back up at Will, Hannibal met his eyes and there was fierce, and conflicted understanding in the shifting colors there. 

Will knew.

He must. 

He understood something, surely. What else could it be?

\---

Hannibal woke to see Will in a chair across the hospital bed from him. Will’s head was tipped back and he was clearly sleeping lightly. 

Hannibal smiled.

He had expected Will to come visit Abigail in the hospital, and was pleased to be correct. 

He felt very cold and couldn’t suppress a slight shiver. 

Will shifted in his sleep, almost waking, but slipping back to sleep just as quickly. There was a visible sheen of sweat over his face and Hannibal mulled over what he should do.

He could walk over and place a hand on Will’s arm or shoulder, excusing it as him trying to wake the other man to speak with him if he was asked. He could place a hand on his forehead, explaining it away as checking him for a fever if Will was unhappy with it.

Ultimately, he sat and watched Will until the other man roused and shook his head to rid himself of sleep.

Will blinked blearily at Hannibal, a few curls falling over his brow in an endearing contrast to his pale skin.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low from sleep, “Any news on her?”

Will tipped his head, gesturing to Abigail, and Hannibal turned to look at the girl in the bed next to him.

“Nothing just yet, though I imagine time will be the best resource for her just now. She has had quite a trauma,” Hannibal replied, using the last words to justify a meaningful glance at his companion, “How are you?”

Will cleared his throat and rubbed his face. His hands slipped under the curls, but didn’t brush them away. 

“I’m fine,” he replied, sparing Hannibal only a glance before studying Abigail again, “Is there any hope that she won’t remember?”

Hannibal hummed in thought.

“Perhaps. It is not uncommon for a mind to choose not to remember a distasteful occurrence, though I think we can still only rely on time to tell us with this as well. Do you wish you could forget, Will?”

Will grimaced, and Hannibal was pleased to notice that he was not wearing his glasses. He was comfortable with those in the room, and did not feel the need to apply his social armor.

“There are a lot of things I wish I could forget,” he said bitterly, “and most of them aren’t mine to remember in the first place.”

After his last comment, he looked back at Hannibal, as if considering what he would think. Then he shook his head.

“I don’t want to forget what happened at the Hobbes home. It’s my memory to keep, for better or worse.”

Hannibal smiled.

“It’s ours to keep,” he replied, shifting in his seat, “you and I both must carry the burden of what happened there. It is a shared memory.”

Will pressed his lips together and looked out the window.

“If she does remember,” Will said, obviously changing the subject, “she will only ever think of me as the man who killed her dad.”

Hannibal sighed.

“First impressions can be a powerful force,” he admitted, “though they can be overwritten with some time and effort. She may remember you as the man who saved her life.”

Will huffed a laugh.

“But I didn’t,” he said, glancing over again, “You did.”

Hannibal bowed his head in acknowledgement.

“We both did,” he offered, hoping to further connect them to each other, “You stopped her father from succeeding, and I minimized the damage of his actions.”

Will shrugged, staring at Abigail with unseeing eyes.


	6. In Hot Water

Will paced around, scanning the shelves of books on the upper level of Hannibal’s office. He pulled the coat closer around himself, knowing it would likely do little to help, but it was an instinctual gesture.

There was a sound of papers shifting, which drew his attention back to Hannibal and the desk.

“What’s that?” he asked about the paper Hannibal held out as if in offering.

“Your psychological evaluation,” Hannibal replied, “You are totally functional and more or less sane. Well done.”

Will frowned.

“A bit early for a diagnosis, don’t you think, Doctor Lecter?” He asked.

Hannibal laid the paper down on the small glass table he was now standing next to.

“Perhaps,” he replied casually, “but I don’t think you are in need of a diagnosis. I think you are in need of stability and healthy connections. Both of which are things that do not come easily for you.”

Will began his pacing again, looking back to the books with a grimace.

“Jack thinks I need therapy,” he said thoughtfully.

“And this will ensure he believes you are capable of doing your job, should you wish, and you may speak freely with me with no fear of affecting your relationship with Jack,” Hannibal said.

Will could feel Hannibal’s eyes tracking him as he walked, but he didn’t want to meet them. Not just then.

He was still conflicted about what he had felt.

Hannibal had grabbed his wrist to move his hand away from Abigail, and his temperature evened out instantly. Hannibal had not shown any obvious reaction, and hadn’t mentioned it. It would be just Will’s luck to have a soulmate link that was one way. Fate was cruel to him like that.

“I do think it would be beneficial for you to have friendly conversations with someone,” Hannibal continued, seemingly sensing that Will wasn’t going to respond, “Whether that be me or someone else of your choosing. Therapy can be helpful for anyone.”

Will looked back to Hannibal now. He was rearranging papers and filed on his desk, despite the fact that it was already obscenely in order.

“Therapy doesn’t typically work on me,” he said, repeating what he had told Jack before the meeting.

Hannibal looked up at him, absently wiping some sweat from the nape of his neck.

“Then you needn’t consider this a therapy session,” he stated, “It can be whatever you need it to be.”

Will huffed a laugh. 

That sounded very much like a psychiatrist.

\---

His grip was slippery on the gun as he aimed. Sweat dripped down his nose as well and he had to blink it out of his eyes. 

Damn his freakish temp. 

Beverly came up behind and Will was suddenly feeling self-conscious. He finished the clip that was loaded into the gun before he turned to her.

“You look like you have something to say,” he observed, none too softly. 

“You look really tense,” she replied, “Try relaxing your shoulders a bit more and move your right foot back a little.”

Will knew she would have likely adjusted his stance herself, if it weren’t for the sweat making itself all too apparent through his shirt.

Will followed her advice and nodded in satisfaction when the bullets hit in a better cluster and the recoil was more easily absorbed.

“I don’t think that’s why you came down here,” he noted, “What does Jack need now?”

“What do you know about gardening?” Beverly replied with a smirk.

\---

Will was cold again, and he felt it almost appropriate, as he was at a crime scene. 

The pendulum swung, time reversed. It swung, earth was moved. It swung, breath returned.

Will opened his eyes, shovel in hand. 

This was his design.

Hobbs grabbed his wrist and dragged him back to the surface, gasping for air and chilled to the bone. 

That was not supposed to happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I said this on a recent chapter of another fic, but if you want to ask a question and actually get an answer, please look me up on tumblr. I will answer any asks you send me over there. I'm william-teddy-grahams over there. I just tend to not answer the comments on here. Thanks.


	7. Cold Blooded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mushrooms, part 1 of 2

Will smelled like gunpowder and fresh earth when he walked into Hannibal’s office. The gunpowder let Hannibal know that he had been practicing his aim, most likely due to having spent so many bullets on Hobbs. The earth was something he hoped would be explained soon enough.

“I am definitely experiencing something out of the ordinary,” Will said miserably, “I hallucinated. Hobbs was in the grave. Someone else’s grave. He shouldn’t have been there.”

Hannibal watched as Will paced nervously. He was rubbing his hands on his jeans, wiping the sweat off, no doubt. His jacket had been quickly discarded on the chair that he preferred to sit in the moment he had entered the office. He had rolled up his sleeves and told Hannibal that his diagnosis may have been too quick.

“You have had a trauma,” Hannibal explained easily, “Stress can cause reactions of that type. I see nothing wrong with my conclusion of your sanity.”

Will opened his mouth as if to say something, but a look of fear shot through his gaze and he shut it quickly. He shook his head and continued pacing.

That explained it. Will thought he had the misfortune of a one sided soulmate link. He thought he was the only one who could feel it. He thought it may be another symptom of whatever mental illness he may have.

Hannibal rose from his seat and set a hand on Will’s shoulder. The man tensed up instantly, but he stopped sweating and sighed almost inaudibly. 

“Tell me, Will,” Hannibal began, making his way to his chair, “what motives did this killer have for burying his victims in such a way.”

Will blinked in confusion before nodding and leaning into his own chair.

“He wasn’t just burying them,” Will replied, looking Hannibal up and down, “He was planting them.”

Hannibal tilted his head, a faint smile on his lips. Will was trying to decipher if Hannibal had felt his temperature change.

“But he let his crops die,” Hannibal probed.

Will shook his head adamantly. His curls bounced and glinted in the light, nearly mesmerising Hannibal.

“They weren’t the crops,” Will countered, “They were food for the mushrooms. He was feeding them intravenously, but only so the mushrooms could feed off them while they were still alive. He didn’t need them to be alive, not for very long at least.”

Hannibal found his gaze locked with Will’s, staring into the deep, shifting blue, green, and grey universes that they were. Will was certain, determined, and afraid. The fear was for himself, though he was sure of what he was saying.

“Mushrooms can mirror the structure of the human brain,” Hannibal offered, “They can sense the presence of other lifeforms and create connections in a way.”

Will’s eyes grew wide for a fraction of a second before they unfocused and sharpened.

“Connections,” he stated, “That’s what this killer wants. He wants to connect people in a way that he understands. In a way that humans can’t themselves.”

Hannibal smiled.

“You can connect to others.”

Will’s gaze focused on Hannibal again and he wet his lower lip. His brow furrowed and wrinkled his nose. His frown deepened and he looked away.

“Not physically,” he answered quietly.

\---

Jack hummed with satisfaction when he took the first bite. 

“Why do you think Will came back to see you?” he asked.

Because he and I are two halves of a whole, Hannibal wanted to say, because his soul and mine are drawn together like predators to prey. Without him, I could not be, and he could not be without me.

“I suspect he recognizes the value that therapy may have for him,” Hannibal said instead, “A mind like his tends to collect impressions until it is overwhelmed. He found that sharing his thoughts with me can help him unclutter his mind.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully.

“I have always had the impression from him that he knows exactly what is going on in his head, which is why he doesn’t want anyone else up there,” he commented.

Hannibal felt a pang of annoyance at that. Jack was a clumsy analyst at the best of times. Will deserved more precise and elegant words than he had in his repertoire. 

“Perhaps he does not want anyone up there who will be careless with it,” he said, keeping the accusation out of his tone, “he is protective of himself, though he still allows others to utilize him as a resource.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, choosing to be amused by the speculations rather than offended at the implications.

“Do you think he thinks I’ll be careless?” he asked.

Hannibal studied him for a moment before answering.

“I think he has the ability to discern who understands how to be as careful as need be, and you may have not met the standard,” Hannibal said carefully, “which is not an insult to you, but you do have many other things on your plate, Jack, and his mind should not be one of them.”

Jack chuckled.

“Then I suppose I’ll let his mind garnish your plate,” he said, “Though I imagine you have nearly as little room as I do.”

Hannibal wanted to laugh at how easily Jack had accepted the metaphor. He hoped Will’s mind would never be on the menu, but the thought amused him. He would certainly eat Will’s brain if it came to it.

“Please, allow me to unclutter his mind with him. I am always delicate with such things,” Hannibal said, “and I find that many of the things on my plate are smaller and less satisfying than I anticipate our sessions to be.”

He thought he might have gone too far with that one, but Jack laughed heartily and continued eating.

“Are you saying you find your job too easy for you?” Jack asked, amusement dripping from his tone.

Hannibal smiled good naturedly.

“Not at all,” he replied, “simply that an added challenge will undoubtedly be good for my own mind as well as his.”

Jack nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is really exciting for me, so I hope it is equally as enjoyable for you guys to read. Stay tuned for that, and as I have said, feel free to contact me on tumblr.


	8. Hot Pursuit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mushrooms part 2 of 2. The end of Stammets

Will had been more cold recently than was usual. 

Not that anything about his temp was usual.

The lab had done nothing to help with the deep chill he felt, and the night air was cool around his body as he headed to the man’s car.

He reached out and beckoned for a baton to be handed to him. He smashed the window and reached in to pop the trunk open. He pulled the woman from the dirt and fertilizer, feeling the slow pulse of life under his chilled hands.

The news of his browser history could have been surprising, but Will hadn’t afforded himself that luxury.

If there were more, Freddie Lounds would be responsible now.

\---

“I’m about to broach the subject of the ‘It takes on to know one’ Article,”

Will pulled the blanket closer around him, hoping beyond hope that it would trap some heat and force it into his body. He watched Alana, sitting gracefully on the bed next to Abigail.

Alana had always had a strange beauty about her. She stood out from wherever she was, but not in a way that made it seem like she shouldn’t be there. More like her surroundings should alter themselves to better fit her natural elegance.

“We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” she continued at Will’s silence.

“We can talk about whatever you want to,” Will replied, wondering when he had taken his jacket off and rolled it up as a pillow, “but I was honestly enjoying listening to you read.”

He felt odd for saying so, knowing that it might seem strange, as he had been asleep for most of it. He said it more to keep her from trying to be a therapist to him than anything else. She tended to care too much.

His eyes landed on Abigail and he frowned. She looked so weak and helpless there. She was vulnerable and alone, and there was nothing he could do about it. 

“You don’t have to feel guilty for saving her life,” Alana said, noticing his gaze.

“I don’t,” Will lied. It was more than that, but still essentially the core of his guilt.

He stammered, looking for more to say, knowing that Alana would need more to feel satisfied.

His mind flashed back to when it had happened.

Gunshots, so many gunshots, and still Hobbs stood, wavering. He finally fell, and Abigail choked and gasped on the floor. Her warm blood flowing over his hands and the rush of adrenaline as he knelt at her side. The hazy, crazed gleam in Hobbs’ eyes when they met Will’s and the feeling of power that filled him when he realized what he had done.

Hannibal’s hands on his, the temperature rushing to a comfortable margin. The look of admiration, or maybe something else, in Hannibal’s eyes as he assured Will that he would do all he could to save her. The spots in his vision from his blood-splattered glasses.

“I feel,” He paused, unsure of what he was feeling, “Good.”

Alana seemed satisfied, smiling and nodding.

\---

Will was feeling hot again as he stepped off the elevator. He pulled off his coat and watched as Hannibal walked up to him with a smile. 

“Will,” Hannibal said, a friendly lilt to his voice, “Shall we walk together?”

Will shrugged and they turned towards Abigail’s room as Will’s phone began to ring.

Will cursed under his breath and fished around in his pockets to find it. He saw that it was Jack, and he readied himself for a lecture on visiting a suspect in the hospital.

“Will, are you at the hospital?”

Will glanced at Hannibal and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Yeah,”

“Stammets knows about Abigail.”

Will stopped breathing. He looked at Hannibal with wide eyes as he ended the call and pulled out his gun.

Will and Hannibal rushed to Abigail’s room and found an empty bed. She was gone. Will felt like the sky was falling on his head and he couldn’t breath. Everything was on fire, he was burning up and he couldn’t think.

There was a hand on his shoulder and the whole world focused around the point of contact. He cooled instantly and his hands stopped shaking. He looked up at Hannibal, who had deep concern etched into his features.

“Will, what did Jack tell you?” Hannibal asked.

Will took a shaky breath.

“Stammets, the mushroom guy, he knows about her. He came for her. He’s going to bury her.”

In reality, only the first part of that was what Jack had said, but Will had guessed the rest.

Hannibal moved his hand to Will’s elbow and steered them both out of the room and across the hall to a nurse’s station.

“Excuse me,” he said, his tone polite, yet commanding, drawing the attention of everyone in the hall, “Where has the girl from 408 been taken, Abigail Hobbs?”

The nurse at the desk seemed frightened and ashamed as she admitted she didn’t know, but they had said it was for tests.

Will took off down the hall and found the stairs. He would not let this happen. Not to Abigail.

Stammets tried to round a corner ahead of him, but Will shouted and he paused. He reached to get a gun, but Will already had his levelled.

Will hesitated only long enough to focus and aim properly. 

He sent a single bullet directly into the man’s chest, and he went down. 


	9. Cold Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath of Stammets' death

Hannibal managed to round the corner and put Will in sight just as he fired. 

Will looked every bit the breathtaking Byronic hero in that moment, even with his back to Hannibal. His hair was blown away from his face from running and his hands were steady when he pulled the trigger. 

Will turned to glance at Hannibal before he ran to check on Abigail, and Hannibal felt a rush of endearment at the determined and fierce set of his features. 

Stammets bled on the floor and Hannibal could tell he would likely not be able to be treated. He would die within minutes. Will kept his gun trained on the man until he was close enough to put himself between him and the girl on the bed.

Hannibal walked forward quickly and checked Abigail’s vitals.

She was fine. Stammets had not intended to damage her, after all, only use her life to feed his crops. An elegant death, in his eyes, and Hannibal could understand that.

Will looked to Hannibal with savage hope, and Hannibal nodded to let him know she would be alright. Will’s gaze then turned to the dying man with such burning, righteous hatred that Hannibal wasn’t sure if he wanted to cook him or kiss him in that moment, but the odd, conflicting feelings made him all the more curious.

\---

“What did you see?” Hannibal asked. He couldn’t hide his wonder and sincere curiosity, but Will was distracted and didn’t seem to notice.

“I didn’t see Hobbs,” he replied, wandering around the office, “I saw Stammets. My mind was clear and I was completely lucid.”

Perfect. 

“Then Hobbs is not what’s haunting you,” Hannibal surmised, “How did you feel, saving Abigail’s life from her father?”

Will looked up to the ceiling, as if it would give him the proper words to use in his reply.

“I felt a calm sense of power,” he said, his voice even and cool, “I didn’t want to admit it, but I think I’ve made peace with it somewhat now. I liked killing Hobbs. It felt just.”

Hannibal felt the scale tipping ever so slightly.

“And what of Stammets?” he asked, “how did it feel to kill him?”

Will looked back at him, studying his face and posture.

“It felt,” he began, pausing to mull over his word choice, “better.”

Hannibal smiled. 

“Do you feel you understood him better than you did Hobbs?”

Will paused his steps for a moment. Then he continued walking, considering his response.

“In a way. He was not necessarily easier to know, but quicker. I understood him quicker, and more thoroughly,” he replied, “I don’t know.”

Hannibal nodded. 

“Do you think this understanding of him affects how you feel about killing him?”

Will grimaced, as if he knew the answer but wasn’t overly fond of it.

“I think,” he paused, “yes. I think it does.”

Hannibal studied Will. He did not seem very uncomfortable at the notion. He was calm, collected, and measured in his responses and movements.

“How so?” Hannibal asked, not sure if he should expect and answer.

Will stopped now, standing near the ladder. He scanned his eyes over the book spines, not taking in the information they offered.

“I can see his vision, in my own head, as if it’s my own. I know what he wanted to do, and I can see it.”

Hannibal marveled.

“What do you see?” He asked.

Will closed his eyes and his head tipped back ever so slightly.

“I would find her in a field,” he began, his voice distant, as if recalling a memory, or if he were truly in a different place, “She would be beautiful, covered in dirt and mushrooms. Surrounded by grass and wildflowers. I would walk up to her and the spores would react, reaching to me in the same way I wanted to reach to her since the day I helped save her life.”

Hannibal made up his mind. He definitely wanted to kiss him. Cooking him would have to be a secondary plan in case things went badly. They were soulmates, after all. 

He would be careful, though. Will clearly was unsure of everything he felt, and Hannibal would have to tread lightly to avoid making him pull away. He would make Will trust him, and rely on him, and he would cultivate those wonderful instincts that Will tried to hide. 

Then he would have him.


	10. Hot on the Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will comes to a decision, and they visit Abigail.

Will decided. 

He didn’t care if his link was one-sided. He was going to seduce Hannibal.

The only problem was how to do that.

It hadn’t escaped his notice that Hannibal was interested and intrigued by Will’s mind, but that was typical of most people, especially in the field of psychiatry. He was not special in that aspect.

Everything else about him was special though.

Hannibal was almost more like a mirror than Will. 

Will could reflect anyone back onto himself, but Hannibal made Will reflect himself. It was hard for him to put into words. It was as if, through showing so few emotions, Hannibal was forcing Will to acknowledge his own. It was like putting two mirrors to face each other, and finding the corridor of infinity perpetuated in both sides.

As Will saw it, Hannibal was the closest thing he was going to get to a soulmate, so he would seize the opportunity while he had it.

Looking over the contents of his closet, he realized he might have some work to do. 

Hannibal always dressed like has going to attend some sort of social gathering of high society. Will was not going to go that far, but he might want to get some nicer shirts. He definitely needed to do something with his hair.

Winston sniffed at his knees while he mumbled about his clothes, and Will shook his head down at him. 

“What do you think?” he asked the dog, “Do you think Hannibal would like it if I wore a suit, or do you think I should just show up shirtless?”

Winston tilted his head, happy for the attention, and Will laughed at himself. 

That was not going to happen.

\---

Will squinted out through the morning sun. It was too early for anyone to be there, not even considering the fact that no one ever wanted to be there. But the dogs ran right up to the figure, tails wagging.

Ah, it was Alana. 

That was odd, even for such an odd morning.

Of course, the morning after he decided he needed nicer clothes, he gets a visitor while he’s in his sleepwear. That was just his luck.

“Abigail Hobbs woke up,” was the only explanation he was offered as he stood awkwardly on his lawn.

“Ah,” he heard himself say, rather articulately.

“Do you want me to make the coffee?” Alana offered at his stunned silence.

Will cleared his throat, thinking of Hannibal, and not being able to keep the images of Abigail buried in a field out of his head.

“I think I want to get my coat,” he said.

\---

Will was giving his lecture, unable to keep the images of Abigail out of his head. 

The slides with pictures of girls that looked like her didn’t help much with that.

The copycat killer. That was something he could entertain, and let it knock around in his head. There was something entirely interesting about all of it.

When Jack walked in, Will felt annoyed, expecting his lecture to be interrupted. Hannibal walked out of the shadows and Will felt conflicting emotions in response. He was glad to see him, but felt acutely aware of the fact he had not yet gotten around to purchasing nicer clothes. 

At least he was wearing a tie and a blazer, he thought, though they were dull and didn’t match all that well.

Hannibal seemed pleased to see Will, at least. He smiled over Jack’s shoulder, and Will was glad he was talking about something interesting. It made it easier to pretend the students were listening.

He ran a hand through his hair, hoping to tame it a bit, as he hadn’t expected to see Hannibal that day. 

\---

Will was dressed a bit nicer, though he wasn’t sure how nice would be seen as a drastic enough change to garner notice from his coworkers, so not very nice. He had done his hair for the first time in what felt like forever, and he was satisfied with how it looked. His shirt was a lighter color than he normally wore, to contrast the dark grey of his blazer. 

He had decided against a tie, going instead for unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. Might as well go all in with what he was going for, after all. 

They were going to see Abigail, so he kept his glasses firmly on his face, in case she didn’t enjoy seeing him as much as he would like.

Hannibal outdid him in every way with his outfit. His blue shirt and patterned tie, a plaid suit, of all things, all matching so well and the intricate knot at his collar. How he managed to pull off an outfit with multiple patterns in it, Will would never understand, but he knew he would never even have a chance if he were to compete with Hannibal over outfit.

That Freddie Lounds was in the room when they arrived, should not have been a surprise, but Will may have been too focused on Hannibal’s outfit to have allowed himself to think too much about their visit beforehand.

Once Freddie was gone, Will looked at Abigail through his glasses. She looked, almost suspiciously, at him in return. Will felt like he wanted to give her a reassuring smile, but he also knew they tended to be more off putting than reassuring.

He settled for a nervous nod.

“Abigail,” he said as warmly as he could with his looming fear, “This is Doctor Lecter. Do you remember us?”

Abigail flicked her eyes to Hannibal before fixing Will with an analytical gaze.

“I remember you,” she said coolly, “You killed my dad.”

Ah, of course. Exactly what he was afraid of. At least now he could stop worrying about whether or not she would remember.

“I am sorry,” he offered, nodding solemnly at his shoes, “I wish I hadn’t had to.”

Abigail furrowed her brow at him, letting her eyes scan over him in confusion.

“He was crazy,” she stated, “why do you wish you didn’t kill him?”

Will wet his lower lip and looked up at the wall above Abigail. He breathed in carefully.

“Taking a life is something no one should ever have to do,” he said, offering a weak and sympathetic smile, “It leaves images and feelings in a mind that shouldn’t be there.”

Abigail’s eyes widened for a moment. She looked down at her hands, folded in her lap. 

“It’s that bad?”

Will looked at her, his chest ached with the desire to return her innocence to her and protect it. She was so young, and she was clearly smart. She could have been so much, but the world would punish her for what her father did.

“It’s ugly,” he said softly, “one of the ugliest things in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have started to reply to some comments, even though I said I wouldn't. I just can't help it when I see one that makes me really happy, or that I think just deserves an answer. So, if you want me to know something, or you want to ask something, I will probably reply to your comment. I won't spoil anything big, but I'll reply. Thanks for reading, and I hope you are enjoying it.


	11. Icy Veins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will starts acting more confident in the hopes of impressing his favorite Cannibal

Hannibal had been systematically making sure to “accidentally” initiate contact with Will whenever possible while they were in the hospital and the garden. Will hadn’t seemed to react much, aside from subconsciously leaning into the touch a few times. 

Hannibal had been mildly disappointed when Will had called killing ugly, but he was even more intrigued as to why he had said such a thing, when they both knew it was a lie.

Will was walking with more confidence than Hannibal had ever seen him with as they walked out of the hospital. It had not escaped Hannibal’s notice that Will had dressed up for the occasion, and he puzzled over the reason.

“You help Abigail see me as more than her father’s killer, and I help you with online ad sales?” Will demanded.

Freddie Lounds was clearly taken aback by Will’s determined and bedrock reaction. She paused for a moment before responding, and Hannibal was fascinated to see how this would play out.

“I can undo what I said,” she replied, a dangerous tone in her voice, “I can also make it a lot worse.”

Will stepped forward, threateningly close, taking off his glasses, and Hannibal could imagine the lovely daggers in his gaze as he spoke. 

“Miss Lounds,” he said in a low voice, “It’s not very smart to piss off a guy who thinks about killing people for a living.”

Hannibal couldn’t help but smile. Will made it very hard for him to keep from pulling him into a kiss in public. He was perfectly dangerous.

\---

Jack was not happy, but Hannibal was wholly amused by the entire thing.

Will sat up straight, his hair combed out of his face aside from a dark curl over his forehead. Hannibal had to struggle to keep his professionally serious expression set in his features. 

“You know what else isn’t very smart?” Jack asked, turning on Hannibal, “you were there, and you let those words come out of his mouth.”

Oh, now it was even harder not to smile. Will was brilliant and clever, and Hannibal wanted to laugh.

“I trust Will to speak for himself,” he replied calmly, sitting up straighter and leaning slightly towards Will.

“Evidently you shouldn’t,” Jack said unhappily.

“At least she didn’t write about Abigail,” Will interrupted.

This was apparently an unusual occurrence, as Jack almost jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Oh, well then it’s a victory,” he retorted.

Will raised his eyebrows, fixing Jack with a cold stare.

“Yes,” he snapped, “In my book, it is. I intend to protect Abigail Hobbs, and if Lounds slanders my name to hell and back for it, I will gladly pay that price. Fire me if you want, but you know you need me.”

Jack and Alana sat in stunned silence. This must be very unusual indeed for them both to be speechless.

“Jack,” Hannibal said, breaking the silence and drawing Will’s eyes, “I think we should consider letting her return to her home. It may prove beneficial for her and us. It could help prevent repression.”

Jack looked happy for the first time during the meeting. Alana did not.

“Alana, have anything to say about that?” Jack asked smugly.

Alana spared Hannibal a regretful glance before replying.

“In my opinion, taking her out of a controlled environment at this time would be reckless,” she said, “It is still too close to the trauma. However, I admit reluctantly that Doctor Lecter has a point as well. I do not agree with the decision, but I know you will make it regardless.”

Jack smiled.

“That’s right. She might give us something to work with. Let’s send her home.”

\---

Will was wearing his coat when he got into the car. Hannibal smirked at the sight, running his sweaty hands over the steering wheel. Only a matter of time.

They pulled up the drive to Abigail’s home and Will frowned at the sight out of the windshield.

They each got out of their respective doors and Abigail blinked sadly at the words painted across the house. She was holding back tears, and Will was visibly enraged.

Will ran a hand through his hair and stepped up to Abigail.

“Don’t pay any attention to them. They are small minded, and aren’t worth your time,” he reassured her.

Abigail looked up at him with wide eyes, and gave him a wavering smile and a nod. He put a hand on her shoulder for a moment in companionship, and they walked forward.

Abigail stopped on the front step and looked at the ground. Will was just beside her.

“Is that where my mom died?” she asked.

Will watched her carefully for a moment before responding.

“Yes. I’m sorry we couldn’t save her. We did all we could,” he said. His voice was smooth and calming, his gaze soft and steady.

Abigail nodded at the step, bidding her mother a final goodbye before continuing into the house.

Will allowed Abigail to go forward ahead of him, giving Hannibal the opportunity to catch up.

He put a hand on Will’s elbow, evening their temperatures out and drawing Will’s gaze up to his.

“Can you feel it?” Hannibal asked in a hushed voice, “His madness? Can you sense it in the air?”

Will turned away, breathing in deeply with closed eyes.

“The air is painted in screams,” he replied, “the walls speak, with noise and clarity. I will be able to feel his actions as I move through the same space he once did.”

Before Hannibal could respond, Will plunged through the doorway, as if crossing the threshold into the beyond. 

Hannibal was left in awe, watching Will trek through the house to Abigail, and the kitchen.


	12. Hot as Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visiting the Hobbs home, and early morning chats

Will wasn’t sure why he was acting the way he was. He was definitely hoping Hannibal would like his confidence, but it was dangerous for him to do. The incident with Freddie had made that abundantly clear.

Abigail ran her hand over the pictures on the fridge, stopping to pull at the corner of one.

“They turned all the pictures around,” she remarked.

Will nodded from the doorway.

“Crime scene cleaners will do that,” Alana explained.

Abigail turned to look at the ground, and Will knew what she was thinking. That was where she had been laying, bleeding and choking, as her father died, not even three feet from her, having been shot by Will.

“They did a really good job,” she said, “Is that where all my blood was?”

Will looked up at her and nodded when she met his gaze.

“Yes.”

Abigail gave him a sympathetic smile, sensing his discomfort.

“Do you do this a lot?” she asked.

Will straightened his posture and tilted his head in question.

“Go places and think about killing?”

Will huffed a laugh so quiet only he could hear it. He gave a small smile in reply and wet his lower lip.

“Yes. Much too often,” he said calmly.

Abigail studied him, and he had the absurd feeling that she could tell he had lied about how killing felt.

“You pretended to be my dad?” she asked, her voice shaking despite her attempt to hide it.

Will stepped forward, his brow creasing in concern.

“And people like him,” he confirmed, “and I know how he felt about you. He loved you, Abigail. He was just sick, so he didn’t know what to do with the other things he felt, things that had nothing to do with you.”

Abigail looked away from him then, glancing around the kitchen.

“He said he killed them so he wouldn’t have to kill me,” she said miserably, “so it’s really my fault they’re dead.”

Will shook his head.

“No, Abigail. When he was loving, and fatherly, that was because of you. When he killed, that was because of his illness. You are not to blame.”

Abigail looked back to him, fire in her eyes.

“But if it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t be dead, would they?” she demanded.

Will sighed. She was strong willed and clever. 

“There are a lot of things that could have stopped them from being killed. You cannot blame yourself, any more than I can blame myself, and trust me, I do.”

Abigail’s eyes lit up with understanding and she ducked her head.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“So am I.”

\---

Will woke up sweating and shaking. He felt like he was on fire, and his mind was replaying the images from his dream in rapid succession.

Abigail. The stag. Blood. The stag with feathers. She was afraid. He was trying to calm her. 

Will wiped the sweat off his face and shook the droplets off of his hand. His hair was soaked. His shirt was soaked. 

He quickly stripped off the shirt and got off the bed. He grabbed himself some fresh clothes and toweled off his hair. 

She had shaken beneath his hand, and he held a blade to her throat.

Will looked at himself in the mirror. 

He was not Garrette Jacob Hobbs. He would not hurt Abigail.

Will pulled on his fresh clothes and made the quick decision to go to Hannibal’s room. He knew which room in the hotel was Hannibal’s but he had never expected to need the information. 

He knocked on the door and Hannibal opened. His hair was not combed yet, but he was already dressed in a button up shirt and slacks. He looked at Will curiously.

Will smiled up at him through the fresh sheen of sweat over his face and let his eyelids slip down a bit so he seemed more tired than he was.

“Good morning, Will,” Hannibal said, “Is something the matter?”

Will shrugged weakly.

“Will you check me for a fever?” he asked, knowing it was a weak excuse, “I feel really warm, and I figured, you’re a doctor, or you were, but you could help.”

Hannibal pushed a hand up under the curls that draped over his brow and rested his palm on Will’s forehead. Will felt instantly cooler and the sweat began to dry. He relaxed his shoulders a bit and Hannibal flipped his hand over to feel Will with the back of it.

“You do feel a bit warm, though I must apologize for my own cold hands. Please come in and I will take your temperature.”

Will offered another weak smile and nodded. Going in, Will was unsurprised to see that Hannibal’s room was in much better order than his own. Everything seemed almost unused, being exactly where it should be.

Hannibal gestured for him to sit, and Will relaxed into a chair. 

Hannibal brought him a thermometer and placed it under his tongue. Will let Hannibal place his hand on Will’s chin and manipulate his jaw to get the thermometer in the right place. Will wanted to laugh at how strangely intimate Hannibal could make everything seem.

Hannibal seemed satisfied at his temperature, seeming almost pleased when he read it. 

“You seem a bit distressed,” Hannibal observed, “What else is bothering you?”

Will chuckled.

“I think I have enough stuff in my head to justify being a little distressed,” he said.

Hannibal waited in silence.

Will sighed.

“Alright. I had a dream. It was about Abigail.”

Hannibal hummed.

“Tell me about it?” He asked.

Will glanced up at him. He could say he dreamt of teaching her to fish, or something innocent like that. Would Hannibal think that was interesting enough? Probably not, and it would be such an obvious lie that Will couldn’t make himself do it.

“I was in the place of her father. I had a knife to her throat. I told her it would all be over soon, and that she needed to hold still,” he said. Will could hear the self-loathing and guilt in his own voice, but he couldn’t stop it.

“Did you kill her?” Hannibal asked.

Will furrowed his brow and bit his lip. There was no judgement in Hannibal’s voice, but Will felt like there should have been. There should have at least been a little more emotion.

“Yeah. Uh, yeah, I did.”


	13. Catch Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visiting the Hobbs cabin, and all that entails. Enjoy.

Hannibal could clearly see the darkness in Will’s mind now. It scared Will, but Hannibal wanted him to see the beauty of it. He could clearly and flawlessly put himself into the place of a killer. If he put himself in the place of the right killer, Hannibal knew he would become something absolutely, fearfully, dazzling.

They pulled up to the cabin and Will opened his door before the car was turned off. Abigail was close behind and he allowed her to walk in front, but he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder as the tape was removed from the doorway.

Abigail walked slowly, turning her head to look at everything, as if it was unfamiliar to her. Will was close behind, but gave her space and silence for her thoughts.

The cabin smelled like wood and cleaners from Hobbs’ obsessive cleaning habits. There was also the underlying scent of blood, that Hannibal knew no one else could sense. It made him want to smile.

Abigail was making a very good show of having a ‘revelation’. She showed clear distress and disgust when asking if her father had been feeding the girls to her and her mother. Hannibal knew it was feigned, but he silently applauded her show.

Better than Hannibal could have planned, a few drops of blood dripped down onto her forehead at that moment. 

Will stilled instantly beside him, and Hannibal noticed that he hadn’t jumped and he didn’t grimace. He simply frowned up at the source of the drip, his brow set in determination.

Alana tried to calm Abigail as Will rushed toward the staircase. Hannibal could hear his steps above him and his voice as he called Jack. 

Abigail rushed away from Alana and bolted up the stairs before they could stop her. Hannibal followed after, but she reached the top and she screamed. Alana reached her and tried to pull her back down the stairs as Hannibal walked up.

The scene was better than he could have pictured. 

Will stood in front of the body that was suspended by the antlers piercing her torso. His hand was on her forehead, touching her through a handkerchief, tilting her head up to see her face. The blood spread out in a shimmering dark pool around the body and Will’s form stood resolute in the midst. 

Hannibal wished he had a sketchbook, for he knew the moment would never be well enough recreated. 

\---

“The young woman on the stag head,” Hannibal replied to Will’s comment.

“Yeah. Cassie Boyle. She had a brother, Nicholas,” Will continued, “But Garrette Jacob Hobbs didn’t kill Cassie Boyle.”

“I know,” Hannibal responded.

Will turned slightly to study him, clearly not having expected that. 

“And he clearly did not kill this young woman either,” Hannibal said, turning to fully face Will.

Will smiled, almost laughing despite the setting being vastly inappropriate for such light hearted things.

“Yeah.”

Jack trudged up the stairs, judgement obvious in his stare.

“You brought Abigail Hobbs back to Minnesota to find out if she had anything to do with her father’s murders, and another girl dies,” he said.

Will stiffened, clearly unhappy with the suspicion of Abigail.

“If Abigail wanted to continue her father’s work,” he said, turning to stare coldly at Jack, “She would have honored every part of her. We would have nothing more to find of Marissa than we had of any other girl.”

Jack frowned, clearly not convinced, but relinquishing for the time.

“You said the copycat wouldn’t kill the same way again,” he accused.

Will turned back to the body, lifting her head again and pulling her lip down to expose the teeth.

“There’s foreign tissue and what could be trace amounts of blood,” he noted aloud, “He probably scraped his knuckles on her teeth in a struggle.”

“Garrette Jacob Hobbs never struck his victims,” Jack stated, “So why did the copycat?”

Jack seemed to be letting go of the argument for the time being, probably keeping it in his pocket for a future time.

“Perhaps he was provoked,” Hannibal offered, “It seems like Nicholas Boyle is a common factor between two victims, and he was clearly aggravated by Marissa. He was likely the killer.”

Will looked up at Hannibal, a flash of suspicion in his gaze. He quickly turned his eyes back to the body, but he made an effort to correct his posture.

“Did Abigail Hobbs help him?” Jack wondered aloud.

“No,” Will snapped. He turned to face Jack and set his jaw. His head tilted up and his hair fell away from his face.

He was resolute in his opinion that Abigail was completely innocent. Hannibal wondered how he would react when he found out the truth. It would be fascinating to find out when the time came.

Jack clearly wanted to argue with him, but let the matter lie for the time. He had Will at his disposal, after all. No need to drag it all out at a crime scene.

Hannibal placed a hand on Will’s shoulder, and felt their temperatures equalize as he smiled at Jack.

“I agree with Will,” he said, earning him a hopeful glace, “Abigail is not a killer, but she may be a target of one.”

Jack sighed. 

“Doctor Lecter, would you please take Abigail back out of Minnesota? I think it’s time she left home permanently.”

Hannibal glanced at Will, who smiled up at him. It was a regretful smile, but his eyes lingered on Hannibal’s eyes and Hannibal nodded in reply.

As Hannibal walked down the stairs, he heard Jack tell Will not to accompany him. 

Jack was certainly making things difficult, but it was good to know that Will had wanted to follow, whether for the sake of Abigail or for wanting to go with Hannibal.


	14. Death Warmed Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets a bit of a fright, but it's all fine by the end of the night.

Will felt a pang of sharp worry when Jack got the call. Hannibal, Abigail, and Alana had been involved in some sort of incident. Jack didn’t say anything more, and Will felt a headache threatening a the back of his skull.

They hurried back to the house and Will was relieved to see Hannibal standing next to Abigail. Alana was in the back of an ambulance, and emergency responders buzzed around the others as well. Everyone was alive, and Hannibal seemed to be okay.

Hannibal and Alana both had people tending to bumps on their heads, from apparently being attacked from behind. 

The story was related, and Will felt the blood drain from his face. He did not think Nicholas Boyle was responsible for the deaths, but Hannibal and Abigail both said he was the one who attacked them. Abigail had managed to defend herself, from the story, and they were safe.

Hannibal was cleared to leave, and offered to take Abigail back to the hotel. Will wished he had a good excuse to go along. As it was, Alana gave him a look that made it clear she wanted him to stay with her.

“He got away?” Alana asked incredulously.

“We’ll catch him, one way or another,” Jack assured her.

Will stood, tired and feeling the headache blooming into full force. He just wanted to sleep, and maybe see Hannibal one more time before they all left for home.

“Where are you going?” Jack demanded.

Will gave him a tired frown. Jack always managed to sound disappointed when it would be to his advantage.

“I want to go home,” he said coldly.

Jack let him walk away, a slightly stunned look on his face. He seemed impressed by Will’s recent boost in confidence, and Will amused himself with thinking about how he may react if he knew what had brought it on.

He swallowed a few aspirin to combat the pain in his skull. 

\---

The hotel was quiet as Will walked down the hall. He hesitated outside Hannibal’s room before he took a breath in and knocked.

Hannibal answered, having removed his sweater and now just in his button up shirt and pants. The top button was undone, and Will wondered briefly if he had answered the door in the middle of undressing for bed.

“Hello, Will,” Hannibal said, an odd fondness in his voice that seemed out of place when it was directed at Will.

“Uh, hey, I just wanted to make sure you were okay after what happened,” Will explained, “I didn’t get to ask at the house, so I just wanted to make sure. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Hannibal smiled warmly, and Will wondered incredulously if his feeble attempts were actually working. Was Hannibal actually falling for it? He had really expected it to be harder.

“Thank you, Will,” Hannibal said, his tone still warm and friendly, “I only have a light bump on my head. I will be fine in a few days. I daresay Abigail will be in worse shape than I.”

Will grimaced. Abigail would certainly be in worse shape for everything she had gone through. He probably seemed inconsiderate for not having visited her instead of Hannibal.

“I don’t think I’m the best person to check on her,” he said, letting a tone of misery bleed through his voice, “She now has memories of me connected with two dead loved one’s. She probably wants nothing to do with me.”

Hannibal tilted his head curiously, and ran his gaze over Will.

“You care for her greatly,” he said.

Will glanced up, almost guiltily. He wanted to say something to make it less weird, but words failed him. He just nodded silently.

“Don’t worry, Will,” Hannibal said, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder, “You have been very kind and supporting for her, she will recognize your efforts and appreciate your help. Goodnight, and rest well.”

Will smiled.

“Thank you. You too, doctor Lecter.”

Hannibal smiled before shutting the door and Will walked down the hall to his own room. His temperature was good now, and his headache was ebbing, so he thought he just might be able to sleep well. 

Overall, the day had not gone absolutely terribly.

\---

“Do you have a problem with feeling safe, Will?” Hannibal asked.

Will scoffed, tilting his head back and looking up at the ceiling. His temperature was comfortable from the handshake Hannibal had offered at the start of their session. 

“I think I just might,” he replied, “But you probably do after your incident, don’t you?”

Hannibal smiled.

“I was not attacked in any place that I must go again, so my sense of security in my life remains intact. We are here to talk about you, though.”

Will chuckled, shifting in his seat. The chairs were very comfortable, despite looking as professional as everything else in the office.

“Sometimes,” Will began, “I leave the lights on in my little house and walk across the open field. Looking back, it looks like a ship on the sea. It’s one of the only times I feel safe.”

He let a dreamy quality color his words, as if he were relating a fairy tale. Looking back at Hannibal, he seemed to be eating it up. His eyes shone with fascination and warmth. He had the slightest trace of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and Will was starting to realize that he only showed his true emotions through these small expressions.

Hannibal leaned forward in his chair, as if wanting to catch every word.

“You told me the air in the Hobbs home was painted in screams. Tell me, how did it feel to walk through the same space that Hobbs once did?”

Will nodded thoughtfully.

“When I was trying to get to know him,” he said, “I sometimes felt that Hobbs and I were doing things at the same time. Getting up, getting dressed, drinking coffee. As if our minds were connected across the space between us, and we were in essence the same.”

“Even after he was dead?” Hannibal asked.

The question caught Will off guard, and he paused a moment to think back. He was right. Even after Hobbs had died, Will had had the eerie feeling that they were conjoined.

“Yes.”

“Like you were becoming him?”

Will laughed, relaxing into his seat and flexing his shoulders.

“No, Doctor Lecter. I know who I am. I am not Garrette Jacob Hobbs. I survived him.”

The words came with even more confidence than Will had expected, and the smile on Hannibal’s face widened. 

“Good, Will.”


	15. Out Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will gets some answers out of Hannibal, but not as easily as he had hoped.

“Doctor Lecter, in your professional opinion, can an empathy disorder affect a person’s link?”

Hannibal studied Will curiously. Was he going to explain his peculiar idea about his one-sided link? That would be something fascinating to discuss indeed, but may lead Hannibal into a position where he must admit the truth.

“I have never met anyone who has had that happen,” he said, “Though I cannot say that it is altogether impossible. I have also never met anyone with your particular type of empathy disorder either. What type of affect are you referring to?”

Will paused, wetting his lower lip and scanning the bookshelves as he did when he wanted to avoid eye contact.

“I mean, I can’t directly control my temp or anything, but could I subconsciously synchronize my temperature with someone else’s?” He said, clearly trying not to give away where the questions originated.

Hannibal hummed in curious amusement. That was a genuine concern for him, clearly. So what made him question his temperature?

“I suppose it is possible, though I think it would be wise to establish effective communication with the other party before you begin to question the validity of your link. Do you have problems with forming meaningful connections?”

The question was a feeble attempt to distract Will. Hannibal wanted to keep him from facing the issue too directly, as he still had plans for him. However, he didn’t want to be obvious about it or keep Will from exploring the issue on his own.

Will looked directly at him, his gaze calculating, but soft.

“Do you?” he asked in return, gaining a smile from Hannibal.

“Yes,” he replied, “I find it very difficult to allow myself to be genuine with others.”

Will raised his eyebrows and grinned. 

“We seem to have a lot in common,” he observed, “Have you met your soulmate yet?”

The direct question caught Hannibal delightfully off guard. Will was being so brilliantly confident with him, and it was clearly not what he used to act like.

“I believe so,” Hannibal said honestly.

Will studied him for a moment before tilting his head with a curious smile.

“Are you together?”

Hannibal looked down at his hands with a slight smile. He wet his lower lip.

“No.”

Will settled into his chair across from him, the smile growing wider.

“Why not?” He asked.

Hannibal desperately wanted to forget all the plans he had made for Will in order to just tell him everything in that moment. Will was being precisely forward and intimately intrusive. It made Hannibal wish all the more that Will had already allowed himself to fall into the darker side of his mind.

“I think my other half is conflicted about how well they understand themselves. They don’t trust what they feel is genuine.”

Will scowled at Hannibal’s shoes. That was evidently not what he had been hoping for. He had clearly been trying to get either a confirmation of reciprocated feelings or a denial. Hannibal had cleverly given him neither, leaving him to still think what he may.

“Have you found yours?” Hannibal asked, “Or at least, someone who potentially is, whether you can trust your temperature or not.”

Will looked up at the ceiling, a bitter smile on his lips. He huffed a laugh and cleared his throat. 

“I may have,” he replied vaguely.

Hannibal tilted his head.

“What makes you unsure?” He asked.

Will fixed him with a cold gaze, his eyes shifting from grey to blue in a stormy tempest.

“They refuse to give me a straight answer.”

\---

Hannibal walked up the steps to Will’s house and smiled at the sound of dogs barking. 

Their last session had not gone exactly to Hannibal’s plan, but it had ended satisfactorily enough. Will had very pointedly guessed that Hannibal was his soulmate and Hannibal had been as vague as possible when he ultimately confirmed his suspicions. 

Will’s house was quaint and he had it furnished as if it was much smaller than it was. The entire place smelled unmistakably of Will. Hannibal breathed in, Will always smelled like dogs, fresh earth, and the underlying smell of life that Hannibal still had yet to put words to. 

Hannibal fed the dogs and walked around a bit to observe the place where Will lived. He smiled at how oddly practical Will was. Someone with such an absurdly fantastic imagination could make the house into any kind of space they wanted, and Will had kept everything of himself crammed into as little space as possible. It was a terrific glimpse into his mind.

The books on his shelves were wonderful choices, ones that Hannibal might have made himself if he had the opportunity to choose the reading material for his soulmate. He had a desk covered in fishing lures and supplies for building them.

Hannibal ran his eyes over the brightly colored feathers and bits of material. 

The sight itself was almost enough to warm up his cold hands, and he smiled. 

He pondered his current situation. Will needed to be pushed. Now that he knew the truth, Hannibal was sure he would be more malleable to him, but he still needed to exercise caution. 

Their peculiar situation was a unique opportunity for him to foster codependence in Will, but Will was seemingly determined to achieve some goal of his own that Hannibal was unaware of.


	16. Hot Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a good, calm conversation about their feelings. Sort of.

Will sat at the table, observing the dinner set before him. The pendulum swung and time reversed. It swung. Maggots disappeared. It swung. The family sat upright.

His arm extended towards his mother as the others fell. 

This was his design.

\---

The family sounded nice enough. Certainly nothing in their past that would earn them a death at the hands of an enemy. 

Will felt a pang of jealousy as he looked over their happy family pictures. He talked aloud about how they must have had some underlying grief or reasons for unhappiness, but he didn’t feel it. He was just making excuses for himself to not feel so alone.

“The killer went low to high, they were probably crouching,” Zeller was saying.

Will ignored him. He had good observation skills, but a terrible imagination. 

They were killed by children. Wasn’t that obvious? At least most of them were. The mother definitely was. By her own son that had gone missing if Will was right, and he had the sinking feeling that he was. 

His sweaty hands stayed by his sides as he surveyed the pictures. He wished he could take off the stupid gloves and let his skin breathe, but he knew he couldn’t.

“Are you done with me, Jack?” Will asked, sounding more confident than he felt. He had told Jack all he could, so there really wasn’t any reason for him to be around until everything was back at the lab.

Jack looked him up and down as if deciding whether or not he was responsible enough to go out on a Friday night by himself.

“Alright, but I want to see you at the lab as soon as we have everything,” Jack said.

Will nodded.

“Let me know if you find anything new,” he said over his shoulder on his way out. 

He actually liked being more confident with Jack. It made Crawford seem to trust him more and let him do what he wanted. It gave him more freedom.

\---

“Let me guess, only child?” Zeller directed at Will.

Will smiled politely. 

Had Zeller noticed that Will had been ignoring him, or was he just rude like that normally? Will had never paid enough attention to how he acted to remember if he was just rude in general.

“Why do you say that?” he asked as courteously as he could manage.

“Family friction is usually a catalyst for personality development,” Zeller stated, seeming much too proud of himself.

Will flashed his teeth in what would look like a grin, but felt more like a snarl.

“And you must be a middle child,” Will replied, his tone sweet, but deceiving.

Zeller blinked in surprise. He seemed hesitant to reply.

“Why do you think that?” he asked, a tad nervously.

Will walked forward to join Jack at one of the autopsy tables.

“Middle children are always trying to figure out where they fit in,” he began, sparing a glance for Zeller over his shoulder, “They can be great politicians, or lousy ones. They feel lost in the mix, so they look for ways to distinguish themselves from those around them. A loud sense of humor, a rude comment to those they don’t particularly like, random facts that no one asked for, that kind of thing.”

The grin fell from Zeller's face like a rock tossed into a lake, disappearing with only ripples left over to suggest it’s presence.

Beverly was stifling her laugh, and Price was giving Will a strange look. He seemed to be trying to figure out if Will was being serious. Zeller was the only one who knew exactly how precise Will had been with his comment. 

Jack seemed to be ignoring the entire situation, instead handing Will a photo. It was of the mother from the crime scene.

“She’s the only one without defensive wounds,” Jack noted.

Will looked into her eyes and saw all he needed in order to know his theory had been right.

“There’s forgiveness,” he said.

Jack frowned.

“What kind of victim forgives their attacker?” he asked.

Will looked up at him with a frown of his own. He wasn’t happy about what he had to say, but he was certain now.

“A mother.”

\---

“How is this most recent case treating you, Will?” Hannibal asked at their next appointment.

Will chuckled.

“Do they ever treat me well?” he asked in return.

Hannibal bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Will studied him as the silence spread around them. Hannibal was waiting for him to say something else. His posture was relaxed, but alert. His hands rubbed absently over each other, likely in an attempt to warm them. 

“You have been very careful not to touch me since our last discussion,” Will observed.

Hannibal nodded, separating his hands as he became aware of their activity.

“I would not wish to presume that it is welcome, as you have not expressly given me permission to,” he explained.

Will laughed.

“You never hesitated before our discussion,” he pointed out, standing and moving over to Hannibal’s desk. He began to move things around on it.

Hannibal stood to join him, standing so they were only a few feet apart.

“Once it became clear that we were both aware of our situation, I no longer felt it was necessary in order to give you the evidence you needed. You may recall we never came to any solid agreement on how to go forward,” Hannibal said, shifting the papers around, possibly to show off his artistic skills to Will.

Will hummed.

Will had worn a green shirt that day, hoping it would look good with the color of his eyes, though he could never really tell if things would or not. His sleeves were rolled up as they usually were when he felt warm, and Hannibal made no effort to hide his glances to his tan forearms.

“Then I suppose we should come to some sort of agreement, then,” Will said.

Hannibal didn’t meet his gaze, walking toward a bookshelf to scan over the titles there.

“What sort of mind does this new killer have?” he asked, trying to change topics.

Will walked up behind him, leaving them a few feet.

“I won’t talk about that until we finish our other conversation,” Will said.

Hannibal sighed heavily.

“That’s very juvenile of you, Will,” he said, like a parent to a child.

Will took a step forward, making the space between them smaller.

“And yet you’re the one trying to avoid the subject,” he countered.

Hannibal turned to him, eyeing the space between them, as if calculating what would change its size.

“You are probably aware that many pairs enter a platonic relationship with their soulmate, if they find them incompatible or unsavory,” he said, “so I imagine you will likely take that route, as you have not really shown any interest in-”

He was cut off by Will shoving him up against the bookshelf, and he breathed out. Their temperatures equalized instantly. Will could see his pupils were blown wide. Hannibal’s frame was firm under Will’s hands, and Will knew Hannibal could easily fight him off if he chose to. 

The fact that he was allowing Will to do this made Will wonder if he had actually managed to catch him. He might not have had to be as patient as he had anticipated for this one to take the bait.

“If you think I’m going to settle for that,” Will said, his voice low and dangerous, “then you are going to have to rethink your profession. I thought I’d be alone forever, and I’m not taking that option now that I don’t have to.”

Hannibal’s lips were parted slightly, and his breathing was catching, but he smiled wickedly at Will.


	17. Stone Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty short, mostly fluff.

Will looked marvelously determined as he stared into Hannibal’s eyes. They were a color matching his shirt today, and Hannibal thought he must have done that on purpose. His grip on the front of Hannibal’s jacket was surprisingly firm and Hannibal couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

Hannibal had harbored similar thoughts about his link, so hearing them from Will was just another confirmation that this was right for him.

Hannibal ducked his head and kissed Will. It was short and soft, but had the desired effect.

Will stepped back slightly in surprise, giving Hannibal room to move.

Hannibal straightened his ruffled jacket and smiled.

“May I invite you to dinner?” he asked.

Will was still standing in shock, not even a foot in front of him. He stared up into his eyes and Hannibal wanted ever so badly to see him act with reckless abandon as he had just done. The shadow of a monster reflected in his eyes, and Hannibal would see it freed.

“I guess so,” Will said cautiously, “Is that your way of starting off a relationship, or just trying to change the subject again?”

Hannibal hummed in amusement. Will was incredibly clever, but Hannibal still needed him to see before he could let things get too far. They were moving much faster than anticipated already, so he would have to compensate.

“I see it would be pointless to try to avoid the subject any more,” he offered in response, “would two days be enough notice for you?”

Will was still eyeing him suspiciously, but Hannibal was being genuine in his offer, so he did not fear being analyzed in that moment, even by Will.

“Fine,” Will said, “Do I need to dress up, or is it a more casual occasion?”

Hannibal could think of many honest responses to that question, but he wanted to poke fun at Will a bit more in retaliation against his forwardness.

“You have already been dressing up for me,” he pointed out, “so wear whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

Will’s cheeks blushed lightly, and Hannibal thought it a lovely addition to his complexion. 

“Then I will have to see what I can dig up,” Will said ominously, and Hannibal started to question his decision to prod him. 

Whatever the outcome, Hannibal refused to take back what he said, so he simply smiled in response.

“So, what sort of mind does this new killer have?”

\---

Hannibal frowned. He wasn’t particularly keen on bringing new attention to his case, but he needed to accelerate his plans for Will, and he wanted so badly to feed him some of his prized meat.

He would have to make sure the body was hidden well enough that it would only be found after their dinner, and after Will had enough time to work out his current case. He wouldn’t want Will to be snatched away while he worked with him.

Will could see what no one else could, and Hannibal craved that. He craved the feeling of being seen and understood. Will was the only one who would be able to, and Hannibal wanted him to find the way. He wanted Will to accept what he saw when he did.

That was what made his plan absolutely necessary. 

Will had to accept him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short. Happy Friday the 13th <3


	18. Breathe Fire

Will cursed aloud when he heard the plan. Jack was having them all go to another house, and he was expecting to find more bodies. They were too far away, and Will wouldn’t be able to be back for the dinner appointment. 

Jack raised his eyebrows at the reaction, and Will waved it away.

“I had plans tonight, Jack,” he said, knowing that would likely cause some gossip, but not really caring, “I’ll just have to cancel, unless you can let me off.”

Jack frowned and shook his head.

“You work better with fresh scenes, we both know that. I want you to be there.”

Will nodded, dreading the thought of telling Hannibal he couldn’t make it. He had actually been pretty excited to go.

“I have to make a call. Go on ahead of me, I’ll catch up.”

Jack seemed happy to not intrude any further on Will’s social life, so he walked out and allowed Will to call Hannibal.

“Hello Will,” Hannibal said, his voice smooth and enticing.

Will wanted to laugh at him, sure that Hannibal was making his voice sound like that on purpose.

“Jack is pulling us all out of town tonight,” he said gruffly, “We’re gonna have to postpone our dinner plans. He apparently can’t possibly let me off for just this one day.”

Hannibal made a sound of displeasure, and Will could picture the frown he wore.

“That is disappointing,” he said.

Will did laugh then. Hannibal was just so proper, never reacting with the full range of emotions. He was always so calculated.

“I’m mad as hell,” he replied, gathering his stuff up to follow Jack, “I think I may have given Jack a sunburn from the words I laid on him. People don’t usually have the guts to swear in front of him. I’ll actually take some time off for when we set it next, so Jack can’t call me in. I’ll even turn off my phone so he won’t be able to reach me.”

Hannibal chuckled on the other end.

“Then I suppose we shall have to reschedule once you return,” he said, “You will be missed.”

Will let out a chuckle himself at that.

“Alright, well, Jack is waiting. I better be going. See you soon.”

He ended the call and hurriedly followed after Jack. 

Jack was waiting in the parking lot, and seemed surprised that Will had been on the phone for so long, though Will thought it hadn’t been very long. Will could tell he wanted to ask about it, but he pointedly refused to acknowledge it.

“Reston Virginia,” Will said, as if asking for clarification.

Jack nodded, seeming to let the phone call wait for later discussion, though Will thought he would likely either forget or decide not to intrude.

“Yeah. Same story for this kid, and we haven’t been able to contact the family. I expect a scene.”

Will nodded. He had guessed all of that, but it was reassuring to know for sure that he had been right.

Jack tried to initiate some conversation during the drive, but Will closed his eyes and laid his head back in a signal that he was in deep thought, and Jack gave up. Will knew Jack would rather he worked well than be friendly with him.

Will allowed himself to drift in and out of consciousness during the drive, his temperature rising and falling like a tide. He wondered what Hannibal thought about it. He would likely have something very clever and articulate to say.

Jack tapped on the window, jerking Will back to reality. He rubbed the sleep off his face and tried to ready himself for whatever they were going to find.

The smell is what met them at the door. Jack wasn’t happy to be proven right, covering his nose and chuffing to clear out the smell of decay. 

Will ignored the smell, focusing on the scene they came upon.

The one in the fireplace was a hint. To what, Will wasn’t sure yet, but it was definitely important. Everything else matched with the previous killing, but the one in the fireplace was special. It had to be the key to understanding.

Jack gave him a hopeful glance, but Will shook his head.

“Jack, the evidence I need isn’t visible. I’m gonna need to have Price, Zeller, and Katz take a look before I know what I’m seeing. I just make connections, I’m not psychic,” he said.

Jack frowned, clearly disappointed.

“You usually just need a fresh scene,” he accused.

Will set his hands to his hips and set his jaw. 

“Well, this isn’t exactly fresh, is it?” He snapped back, and then pointed at the fireplace, “And that one is different. I don’t know why that happened. Something was different, but I won’t know what until we’re back at the lab, unless you dragged nearly the entire setup out here with the team.”

They both knew Jack hadn’t brought a mobile lab with him, and the team would not be prepared to get Will the information that he needed until they got back.

Jack sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Fine. Can you tell me anything?” He asked.

Will looked around. 

“The pattern matches, as far as I can tell. The mother was killed last, I’m pretty sure. Something went wrong though, I just don’t know what yet.”

Jack didn’t look happy, but he nodded. 

Will got out of there and felt himself chuff instinctively, trying to clear his nose of the smell. The forensics guys brushed past him to photograph and catalog the scene.

There went all his plans for the day. He wouldn’t have time that night for dinner with Hannibal, and he was basically useless here. He didn’t even have the satisfaction of having done his job.

Will sat down on the front walk, ignoring the looks he was given by the others. He ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t need to care about keeping it tidy anymore. 


	19. Iced Over

Hannibal was not happy.

Will had been snatched from him despite his efforts, and now the meat he had procured would likely go to waste. Not just that, but Will would be put on the case of the Ripper now, making it less likely that he would have time again soon to make plans.

Things had not gone according to plan.

Hannibal stared down at the cuts of meat. They would not go to waste if he had any say in the matter.

\---

Will seemed to be packing up to leave when Hannibal entered his lecture hall. He was stuffing things into his bag with obvious frustration. 

Hannibal stood a few feet in front of his desk, waiting for Will to notice him.

Will looked up and blinked in surprise. He had a thin sheen of sweat over his forehead.

“Hannibal?” he said.

Hannibal nodded and lifted the container of food in way of explanation.

“If you cannot join me for dinner, I might as well make sure you are well fed nonetheless,” he said. 

He set the container on the desk and slid it closer to Will, who stared at it like it was a venomous snake.

“What?”

Hannibal chuckled lightly. 

“You haven’t even considered what you were going to eat, have you?” Hannibal responded.

Will seemed to realize what was happening and ducked his head sheepishly.

“Jack wants me at the lab asap. I wasn’t expecting to eat anything.”

He spoke as he continued to stuff things into his bag. He ran his hand through his hair, which was untidy and unruly. He also took off his glasses and straightened his shirt. Hannibal smiled at his nervous preening. 

“Then I am pleased to supply a meal for you. You really should take better care of your health, Will,” Hannibal chided.

Will finally met his eyes and offered a tired smile.

“Thanks. Sorry again for having to bail on you tonight. We really have a strange case, and Jack wants to wrap it up soon.”

Will had stopped trying to salvage his appearance and slung the bag over his shoulder as he rounded the desk. He picked up the container of food and nodded to Hannibal in thanks.

Hannibal nodded in return and they both walked to the door.

“When are you going to want the dish back?” Will asked, looking down at his feet nervously.

Hannibal smiled.

“Whenever is most convenient for you, Will,” He replied, “I know you are a busy man. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Will furrowed his brow with a frown. He glanced up at Hannibal and chewed on his lip.

“I want you to impose,” he said.

Hannibal kissed Will on the forehead, and Will tensed in surprise. Their temperatures equalized and Will made no move to pull away.

“Then I shall have to make a habit of it,” Hannibal said.

Will blushed deeply and nodded sharply before all but bolting out of the door. Hannibal watched him leave with a smile. 

Will had been acting with confidence since they met, but when his advances were reciprocated, he seemed at a loss. It was an interesting thing to see. 

Hannibal mused over this as he walked to his car. Will was a remarkable individual, and Hannibal wanted desperately to have him see. He wanted the darkness behind his eyes to overshadow his harmless persona. He wanted Will to become intimate with his instincts and feel the burn of fire in his veins with the power he could wield.


	20. Fuel to the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bev gets a scene. I love Bev. Enjoy.

“The bullet went under the scalp and stopped about here,” Zeller said, gesturing at the body, “then, she was shot again, different gun, this time killing her.”

Will nodded. That was what he needed.

“The one in the fireplace. I think you’ll find it’s the missing kid. He was conditioned to shoot his mother, not watch her suffer,” he began. 

He walked toward the body, looking down at it sadly. He had everyone’s attention as they watched silently.

“The first shot, by him, didn’t kill her. She began to convulse, the kid couldn’t take it, so he was disowned. Tossed into the fireplace. He had no place with the others if he couldn’t do what was expected of him. Connor Frist was no more.”

Beverly seemed to be the only one not completely horrified by what Will had just said. She looked through the notes and reports and over the evidence as if she was making sure everything Will said fit into the evidence.

Zeller and Price were staring at him in shock. Price swallowed hard and Zeller averted his gaze to look at the ground instead. His hands were shaking slightly, but he was obviously trying to hide it.

Jack looked at the burned corpse with despair.

“So this is what they have to expect if they rebel,” he said with obvious disgust, “This is what keeps them in line.”

Will knew it wasn’t exactly the way he was putting it, but it wouldn’t matter as long as they caught whoever was responsible. He popped the lid off of the container of food and picked up the cafeteria fork he had snagged on the way down. 

“What in the world?” Jack asked, staring at the food.

Will raised an eyebrow.

“I’m hungry, Jack. Did you expect me to just not eat because you needed me?” He didn’t acknowledge that he had planned on not eating, himself, “I won’t mess up the evidence with my food.”

Jack shook his head in wonder and continued asking Price and Zeller questions.

The food smelled amazing, and Will had no idea what it was. He could see pieces of meat, along with some vegetables, but he couldn’t have guessed what it was called.

Putting a bite into his mouth, he found that it was still warm, which must have been a feat of itself. It tasted just as good as it smelled, and he hummed happily as he took another bite.

Beverly folded her arms as she walked up to him.

“Will Graham,” she said, “The sass is strong with this one. What are you even eating?”

Will glance up at her, then back down to his food. After tasting it, he had even less of a clue as to what it was. He flexed his fingers around the container, feeling the cold seep into his skin from the room.

“I don’t know,” He admitted, “but it’s good.”

Beverly raised an eyebrow.

“Where did you get it if you don’t even know what it is?” She asked.

Will tried to think of a good answer to that. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go around telling everyone Hannibal was his soulmate, since that would probably complicate things with him being Will’s psychiatrist. He also didn’t want people getting any weird ideas about him.

“Uh, a friend brought it for me. They know I’m not very good at feeding myself.”

Beverly shrugged at that, seemingly satisfied with the answer.

“Well it smells amazing. I’m jealous. I’m probably going to have to order takeout or something,” she said, turning back to watch Price ramble at Jack.

“Jack works us all pretty hard,” Will noted, staring down at his food.

Beverly laughed softly.

“At least he knows what my limitations are,” she retorted, “he treats you like some sort of magician. How are you doing with all that?”

Will huffed, taking another bite of the food.

“I can handle it,” he said, “I’ve got a support system of sorts for when things get bad.”

Beverly nodded.

“That’s good. You’ve been supporting yourself more recently too. I hope that means you are doing well, and not that you’re just moody,” she said.

Will smiled. Beverly was clever.

“I think I’m doing well,” he replied, “But I can’t say I’m not moody. Moods tend to abound with this line of work.”

Beverly smiled and nodded again.

“That’s the truth,” she said, “I bet Jack is going to want me back at my station here quick.”

Jack had indeed turned his gaze over to them and Will could tell he was indeed about to tell Beverly to get back to work. Will nodded and Beverly walked over to her stuff. He kept eating, feeling like he needed to give Hannibal something in return for the food. He wasn’t very good at accepting gifts.


	21. Thin Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Working through some stuff together, like they should.

Hannibal opened the door with a smile. Will was sitting on the couch in the waiting room and looked up quickly when the door swung open.

“Good evening, Will,” he said, stepping aside so Will could enter.

Will stood up, seeming relieved and anxious simultaneously. He walked in past Hannibal with a slight smile and tossed his bag onto the chaise. Hannibal noticed the gift wrapped box and tipped his head curiously while Will shucked off his coat.

“Has Christmas come early, or late?” Hannibal asked.

Will looked at him with a confused frown, and Hannibal stepped forward, gesturing to the box peeking out from Will’s bag.

“It was for Abigail,” Will explained, a note of misery in his voice as he tossed his coat next to the bag.

“Was?” 

Will began walking off his nervous energy as he approached Hannibal’s desk.

“I was upset when I bought it,” he continued, “I probably still am.”

Hannibal looked more closely at the box as he stepped up to it. It was thin, with a ribbon tied around it. He nudged the edge with his fingers to gauge the weight, and it was heavier than he had expected by the size.

“What is it?” He asked.

Will picked up something from the desk and fiddled with it, glancing over to Hannibal.

“Magnifying glass,” He admitted, “Fly tying gear.”

Hannibal considered that. Will was skilled when it came to making his own lures, and it would be something that would require hours upon hours of one-on-one time with Abigail to teach her to do. He must have been feeling extremely paternal, as he would likely not have usually considered that as something he would enjoy, being as unsocial as he was. 

Something must have caused it.

“Teaching her how to fish,” Hannibal said, walking up to stand with Will, “Her father taught her how to hunt.”

Will huffed a soft laugh, pressing his lips together and ducking his head. He placed the letter opener back on the desk.

“That’s why I thought better of it,” he said quietly.

His fingers still lay on the letter opener, and he tapped them softly with anxious consideration.

Hannibal laid his hand over Will’s on the desk, and Will tensed instantly, his fingers stilling. He looked up at Hannibal and grew a bit pink in the cheeks. Their temperatures equalized, and Hannibal smiled. Every touch was a reassurance to Will that they needed each other, and Hannibal was glad of it.

“If I may impose again,” Hannibal said, “what brought on these paternal urges, do you think?”

Will bit his lip and pulled away to sit in his chair. Hannibal followed, sitting across from him. Hannibal watched as Will balled his hands into fists on his knees and clenched his jaw, looking around.

“You are angry,” Hannibal observed, when Will didn’t offer anything.

Will grimaced.

“It’s the case,” he confessed, “I’m angry about these boys. I’m angry because they have given away something and I can’t get it back. I can’t fix this.”

He was trembling with pent up anger now, and he shifted restlessly in his seat. 

“Their family,” Hannibal said.

Will nodded sharply.

“We call them the lost boys.”

Hannibal studied Will for a moment in silence.

“You recognize that Abigail is lost as well,” he said, “and you recognize that the responsibility to help her find her way lies in our hands.”

Will frowned.

“Alana doesn’t want us to get too involved,” he said.

Hannibal nodded. Alana had evidently let them both know that she wanted them to leave Abigail mostly alone. 

“Alana worries that we are wishing to replace her father, and shelter her from the world. That is not my intention. Is it yours?” he asked.

Will stood and began pacing nervously again.

“Of course not,” He replied, “But she doesn’t have anyone. Alana thinks I want to be everyone for her, but I know I can’t be. Alana is doing that more than I am. Isolating her can’t be good for her either.”

Hannibal watched Will pace. He was right, of course. Alana was unintentionally doing exactly what she had warned them against. She was trying to be Abigail’s only protection, her only source of information, and her only friend. 

Alana would see it as meddling, but Hannibal wanted to help Will help Abigail.

“I agree with you. Isolation can only be detrimental to her development of social skills and her ability to function regularly in society. Perhaps we can convince Alana of this together.”

Will stopped abruptly. He turned to Hannibal with a worried frown.

“Why?” he asked, “why do you agree with me? I’m not a psychiatrist. I don’t actually know what’s best for her. I’m sure Alana does. I can’t imagine having me force myself into her life can be good for her. I’m the guy who killed her dad.”

Hannibal stood as well and walked up to Will. He placed a calming hand on Will’s shoulder and tipped his head to meet his eyes.

“She already sees past that, Will,” he said soothingly, “Alana thinks we are too invested in Abigail’s well-being, but she is sheltering her from far too much. We are the only ones who have both the insight and the ability to help her grow.”

Will nodded, trying to avoid meeting Hannibal’s eyes. 

“And you’re prepared to go against Alana, to help Abigail?” Will asked.

Hannibal smiled and let his hand fall down to Will’s elbow, trailing his fingers all the way down and drawing an unintentional shiver from the other man.

“Of course,” he said softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed last update for this fic, and I can make no promises to not do that in the future. I hope you like this chapter, and I hope you stick with me 'till the end. Thanks for reading. <3


	22. Fired Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans go down all around.

Alana was going to join them for dinner. Hannibal planned to have Abigail over, and they would discuss her own opinions on the matter. 

Will had needed to break out his most pitiful puppy eyes, and he knew there had been no little amount of needling on Hannibal’s side either, but Alana had agreed to it. She would bring Abigail to Hannibal’s house for the dinner, and they would all be able to have a nice, friendly conversation.

Will wasn't sure if he should try to seem perfectly stable, or if he should just try to be as kind as possible to Alana. He knew Hannibal would have some plan already, but he hadn't bothered to share it with Will. 

The one thing Will did know, was that he needed to catch a couple fish for the dinner.

As he stood in the current of the stream, he imagined how the dinner could go.

Alana might see the joint effort they made to provide dinner, and Abigail might really, genuinely smile. Alana could see that Hannibal and Will both cared about Abigail, and Hannibal would make sure they didn't seem overprotective. Alana might just let them help.

Will recognized each subtle thing Hannibal had intentionally made to be in their favor. 

They were going to Hannibal’s house, which was extremely clean and gave the impression of a stable lifestyle. Will was providing the fish, which would make it seem like they were working together already to make things work for Abigail. Alana was invited as well, to show that they were not trying to replace her or to shut her out of Abigail’s life. 

Everything Hannibal had done made it so it would look better from Alana’s eyes.

Will’s phone rang, which surprised him. He didn’t usually have service around here.

“Graham,” he said upon answering.

It was Jack, of course.

“Will, I know you wanted today off, but we found another kid. His family is probably still alive, and this could be our only chance to catch all of them together. I need you here ASAP.”

Will sighed heavily, testing his line. He had caught a few fish already, but he had hoped to catch a few more for his own freezer. 

“Jack, if you know who and where, then why do you need me?” He asked, “I’m a consultant, not a field agent.”

Jack grunted, and Will knew he hadn’t made his mood any better by being difficult. 

“I want you to go over the file we put together on the way, and I am going to need you to predict what they are going to do if we get there before them. I need you.”

Will nodded, though he knew Jack couldn’t see it.

“Alright. It’s going to take me a bit to get there, do you want me to meet you at Quantico, or go straight to the location?”

He was starting to reel in his line and pack up his stuff, walking to shore as he talked, and praying the signal didn’t give out.

“Quantico, and I don’t care if you come in your pajamas, just get here as fast as you can. Any plans you had are going to have to wait until further notice.”

Will inwardly groaned, hoping he didn’t mean the dinner would have to be cancelled. It had been hard enough to get Alana to agree to it in the first place.

The line cut out, and Will was spared having to think up a proper response. He slipped his phone back into a pocket of his bag and tucked his supplies away.

Jack might have said he wanted him quickly, but Will refused to show up in his waders. He made a quick change in his house before he set out for Baltimore.

\---

Hannibal looked surprised when he opened the door. Will handed him the cooler of fish and offered an apologetic smile and sweaty hands.

“Jack needs me right now,” he explained, “I am going to do everything I can to be back in time for dinner, but I don’t know. I got this for you first, so everything should be fine if I can’t make it. I’m sorry.”

Hannibal nodded in understanding.

“You must go,” he said, “to help the lost boys. You have a noble heart, and a restless mind. You will be missed if you do not make it.”

Will felt his chest ache at the words. He could imagine what the dinner would be like without him. Hannibal would add flourishes to the explanation of why Will couldn’t be there, but Alana would still grasp onto it as a sign that Will wasn’t in the right place to be helping Abigail. Abigail would feel like he didn’t care about her, and she wouldn’t want him to have any part in her life.

As Will stood, slowly terrifying himself, Hannibal placed a hand on his shoulder and drew his gaze up.

“Will, do not worry, everything will be fine,” he said.

“I know, but what if Abigail-”

His words were cut off when Hannibal pulled him into a kiss. He froze, completely unprepared, and his eyes grew wide. 

Hannibal pulled away and nodded.

“Now go, and I will see you when you return,” Hannibal said.

Will had no power to respond with words, so he just nodded and turned back to his car. 

Will could still feel the cool press of Hannibal’s lips to his as he drove to Quantico, and he knew his face was red. Hannibal was terrifyingly confident in all of his actions. Will had never really been able to be that way, and he admired it in the other man. 

Once Will was in a car with Jack, he was given the full story.

“Reston Virginia,” Will repeated, calculating the distance. If everything went really well, really quickly, he could possibly make it back in time for dinner. 

Jack took his repetition as confusion, so he raised an eyebrow and nodded.

“Yeah, the kid has fits the profile, same story as the others. His family’s house is in Reston, and it fits with the direction of travel, as far as we can tell.”

Will flipped through the file. Jack was right. Everything fit, and Will knew the kid was going to be one of the lost boys. 

The drive mostly consisted of Will reading through the file multiple times and Jack trying to let him work without pestering him too much about what he was thinking.

They found the family outside, and there was a row of boys facing them. Each boy was holding a gun, and they were aiming at a different member of the family. 

When the team stormed out, and a few officers shouted, the boys each dropped their weapons, except the one Will recognized from the file he had just read.

Christopher darted away, and Will was the first one to follow. After a moment, a few officers chased after, just behind Will as he made his way to the pool. 

Christopher stopped in front of a small pool house of some kind and aimed at Will. He was scared, and trembling.

Will stopped, and motioned for the other officers to as well. He raised his hands in surrender.

“It’s alright, Christopher,” he said, “I’m going to put my gun down, alright? Can you put your gun down too? Please?” 

Christopher watched as Will knelt and placed his gun on the ground. He seemed to be considering what he was going to do, clearly tempted to do as he had been asked.

The door of the house behind Christopher opened, and out stepped a woman that Will recognized only from her presence, and the mental image he had prepared of her before then. 

“Shoot him, Christopher,” the woman said, placing an arm over his shoulder and showing everyone that she was armed as well.

Will didn’t know what would happen next. He didn’t know the full extent of what the boy would do under the direction of this woman. 

Will closed his eyes, willing whatever was going to happen to happen already. He lowered his hands by a margin, and there was a beat of absolute silence.

A shot rang out, and Will opened his eyes. Christopher dropped his gun and stepped away from the bleeding woman who had collapsed onto the concrete next to him. 

Will whipped his head around and met the eyes of Beverly. She gave him a curt nod, and ran forward to help the other officers as they herded the child away and began work on the woman.

Jack took the kid to talk to him privately, and Will wondered if he had enough time to make it back to Hannibal’s.

His hands were sweating again, and sweat dripped off of his brow. He felt like he was burning up, and all he could think about was the cooling touch of Hannibal’s lips to his. He sat on one of the front steps, and waited for Jack to tell him he could go.


	23. Cool Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner, not quite as planned, and a late conversation.

Hannibal felt his hands grow colder as the evening wore on, and he was incredibly disappointed in how things were working to turn out. 

Alana and Abigail were understandably disappointed that Will had not been able to come, but Abigail seemed pleased that he was still working with the FBI. She had feared her father had haunted him so much that he would have left.

Seeing how Abigail acted around Hannibal, and how she worried about and missed Will, Alana was much easier to convince. 

The fish turned out perfect, as Hannibal had known it would, but Will’s absence left an empty space in his mind where he should be.

“Yes. Will had only just enough time to bring the fish for me to prepare before he was whisked away to help. He was terribly sorry to have to miss you both,” Hannibal said.

Alana took a bite of the fish and hummed in approval.

“I think congratulations are due for you both. This fish is wonderful.”

Hannibal nodded in thanks and Abigail smiled down at her plate.

“So Will fishes?” She asked.

Hannibal returned her smile.

“Fly fishing,” he replied, “Will is somewhat of an expert. He even ties his own lures. Have you ever been fishing?”

Abigail took a bite of the fish and nodded.

“My dad took me once. He liked hunting more, but he always wanted me to learn survival skills.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Preparing you for the eventualities of life. It is a parent’s responsibility to ready their children for independence.”

Alana watched Abigail carefully for her response.

Abigail turned to Hannibal with bright and clear eyes, her lips pressed into a gentle smile.

“Do you fish?” She asked.

Hannibal smiled and cut another piece of fish.

“No. I used to hunt with my father, but fishing would be a new experience for me.”

Abigail nodded.

“I can't really picture you in fishing gear,” she admitted, “but I can see you hunting.”

Alana raised an eyebrow at Hannibal, but did not reprimand him for the turn of the conversation.

“I was never any good at either,” she said, drawing Abigail’s eyes, “but I tried to raise peacocks once. It didn't go very well.”

Abigail giggled, likely imagining all the ways it could have gone poorly. She seemed very at ease, and Hannibal knew Alana could see it.

“I think Will would very much like to take you fishing, if you think that is something you might enjoy. He has been very nervous about asking you.”

Abigail turned back to Hannibal, her eyes sparkling and curious.

“Really? I didn't think he liked being around me. I feel like I make him feel guilty.”

Hannibal nodded.

“The guilt he feels is from the thought that you may not wish to be around him. He worries you are upset with him, or will be.”

Abigail smiled.

“So, he really does want to stick around and help me out?” She said hopefully.

Hannibal looked to Alana, who sighed.

“Hannibal and Will would both like to help you and be a part of your life. It's completely up to you, though. If you aren't comfortable with that, then you are not obligated to do anything.”

Abigail tipped her head curiously, darting her eyes between Alana and Hannibal.

“You're not worried about them being overprotective, or overly involved?” She asked.

Alana put down her silverware and placed her hands in her lap.

“I am, but I trust them to keep each other in check. Hannibal should be able to be logical about what is good for you, and of course you can tell me if you are ever concerned about anything.”

Abigail nodded.

“Then I could go fishing with Will? And come here to talk to Hannibal?” She asked.

Alana nodded.

“Of course. If that’s what you want.”

Abigail grinned at them both, and Hannibal returned the smile.

\---

Hannibal plunged his cold hands into the steaming water. He wondered idly if the water would warm his hands, or if his hands would only cool the water more quickly.

The knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts and he dried his hands off to answer it.

Will stood on the doorstep, soaked to the bone with sweat, and smelling of fever. He stood as if at any moment he might collapse with exhaustion.

“Will,” Hannibal said, stepping aside to let him through the door, “Please come in.”

Will nodded and took a shaky step forward. 

Hannibal reached out to support him, and their temperatures equalized. Will let out a heavy sigh at the feeling, and Hannibal smiled. Will leaned into him, and Hannibal held him up to lead him to the sitting room.

When Will was on a couch, and on the verge of passing out, Hannibal looked him over.

He was still in the clothes he had been wearing when he dropped off the fish, and Hannibal wondered exactly what had happened while he was gone. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and the top button of his shirt was undone, all in a futile attempt to cool himself.

“I’m sorry,” Will mumbled, “I should be at home.”

Hannibal shook his head, despite the fact that Will couldn’t see it due to his closed eyes.

“Nonsense. You clearly need help, and you came to the place you know you could find it. I’m not the least upset.”

Will hummed tiredly, letting his head drop back to the armrest of the couch.

“We found the lost boys,” he said.

Hannibal sat on the couch, moving Will’s legs so they lay across his lap.

“Will you tell me about it?” He asked, carefully pulling Will’s shoes off and setting them on the floor.

Will cleared his throat, his eyelids fluttering slightly.

“We got there just in time. We saved the family, and we found the mother figure. She told one of the boys to shoot me.”

Hannibal laid his hands on Will’s shins and let his fingers trace patterns into the fabric there.

“I am pleased he did not,” he replied softly.

Will chuckled.

“Beverly shot her before he could make up his mind, and then he was too scared to shoot anyone. I owe her one.”

Hannibal hummed happily. 

“You have done well today, and deserve rest,” he said.

Will frowned and his feet twitched. He opened his eyes and looked at Hannibal.

“I didn’t do much,” he said, “and I almost got killed. I think that counts as making a big mistake in the field.”

Hannibal nodded.

“Though I recall you were not meant to be a field agent, and you were called in on a day you expressly asked to have off of work. There is some forgiveness for error under those conditions.”

Will huffed.

“How did dinner go?” He asked.

Hannibal smiled.

“Alana has agreed to allow us to take Abigail on outings and spend time with her, as long as Abigail remains amenable. Abigail is glad to have the opportunity to leave the hospital more often.”

Will smiled.

“I’m glad. She needs someone. I want to make sure she has someone to fall back on when things get tough.”

Hannibal felt a rush of affection for Will, and he studied the other man’s tired face. 

“You would be her lion heart,” he said softly, marveling, “fighting the evil in the world so it may be a better place for her.”

Will swallowed.

“It’s too late for that,” he said, “maybe all I can do now is prepare her for the evil she will meet.”

Hannibal hummed.

“Would you like to use my guest room, Will?” he asked, “or would you like me to drive you home? You do not seem to be in the condition to drive yourself.”

Will sighed.

“I don’t know. I don’t know why I came here. I shouldn’t be inconveniencing you.”

Hannibal stilled his hands on Will’s legs and shook his head.

“I will prepare my spare room for you. You should not be alone after the day you have endured.”

He began to stand, but Will resisted.

“I would have my dogs,” he countered, “who I need to take care of anyways. I should go home.”

Hannibal put a hand on his shoulder and pressed him back into the couch. Will didn’t continue to resist, letting himself fall back onto the cushion.

“Dogs are no replacement for human presence. I will arrange everything. You must rest,” Hannibal instructed, “Please, Will. Let me take care of you for tonight.”

Will nodded sleepily, laying his head back and closing his eyes again.

Hannibal made quick work of turning out the spare bed for Will and making sure everything would be prepared for him. 

The thought of Will staying, only a room away from him, made Hannibal’s imagination wander. He knew nothing was likely to happen, and he was content with waiting as long as he must, but he allowed himself to be entertained by the possibilities.

Will was fast asleep when Hannibal returned to fetch him. His head was tilted in a way that Hannibal knew would leave it sore were he to remain that way for long. He looked so vulnerable and peaceful, and Hannibal allowed himself to study him in that way for a moment.

When he leaned over Will to wake him, Hannibal took the opportunity and inhaled deeply.

There was cause for concern, he knew. He could smell encephalitis in his fevered sleep, though it was early enough that there would be time to see it develop before any lasting damage was done. 

“Will,” Hannibal said, “The room is prepared.”

Will opened his eyes and Hannibal saw the flash of confusion before his mind brought to light the reasons for his location. There was a wave of relief and a slight smile when Will realized where he was.

“Please come, and I will show you,” Hannibal finished.

Will nodded and silently stood. He was still shaky on his feet, but Hannibal offered a firm hand to help him on his way. They made their way to the room together, and Hannibal settled him in for the night.


	24. Out of the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very fluff

Will woke up in a panic, looking around him and racking his brain for what had happened the night before.

He had gone to Hannibal. Hannibal had put him in the guest bedroom for the night and said he would arrange for the dogs to be taken care of.

Then why was Hannibal in the bed next to him?

Will was so startled he jumped backwards, almost falling out of the bed and ultimately waking Hannibal.

He had looked so peaceful, lying perfectly on his back and sleeping. Now his eyes were open and watching Will curiously.

“I assume you do not remember how you got here,” Hannibal said, propping himself up in the bed. His voice was low from sleep and Will could feel a lump forming in his throat.

“I don’t remember,” he confirmed, “what happened?”

Hannibal nodded in understanding and sat up fully.

“Quite in the middle of the night, you came to me. You were overheated and not fully conscious. You answered each of my questions with exactness and honesty, though you would not have been able to carry a conversation. You were sleepwalking.”

Will tried to wrap his head around that.

“I don’t have any history of sleepwalking,” he said.

Hannibal nodded again.

“It is uncommon for the habit to begin in adulthood, but you have been under a lot of stress lately and it is not unheard of. I would think it is due to mental exhaustion. Do you recall any vivid dreams from last night?”

Will immediately remembered a dream.

He had been with a family. It had been his, but not, at the same time. He had watched his mother be shot, the bullet coming from a gun he held. She fell to the floor in spasms, and had been shot again. Watching her die had crippled him, and a pair of strong hands gripped him and threw him into the fire. 

He had burned. He had burned, and felt his flesh melt off and his hair catch fire. He had felt it all, and then there was death. Death was cold and comfortable against his burnt skin, and he had welcomed it, only to find that it was new life. 

Will groaned and rubbed his face. He did not want to have to explain that to Hannibal.

“There is no need to try and relate the dream to me,” Hannibal said calmly, “Only understand that you had one. Shall I make us breakfast?”

He stood up and Will stood as well. Hannibal looked at Will appraisingly.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Will thought about that for a moment before responding.

“Surprisingly well rested,” he said, “I never feel well rested.”

Hannibal smiled.

“What wonders having some company can do for your health,” he said, almost proudly, “I’m pleased you feel well.”

Will nodded, keeping his eyes on the nightstand, to keep them away from Hannibal at all costs. This was not something he knew how to deal with. He was not someone that anyone wanted to be in a relationship with, and he was not equipped for this kind of circumstance.

Hannibal walked out of the room, and Will knew he was going to make them breakfast.

Will walked through the hall to the guest room he had been put in. The one he had abandoned in the middle of the night for some reason. The bed was rumpled from his movements the night before, and his set of clothes lay across a chair near the bed as he had left them.

Will sat down on the floor, feeling it was more appropriate for the time being than the bed or a chair.

He ran his hands through his hair and tried desperately to remember getting up. He wanted to remember why he had walked to Hannibal. Why he had gone to him.

Stupid temperature links were probably to blame, if the dream had anything to do with it. He remembered burning, and finding something that cooled him down. Damn soulmate links.

Soon enough, smells of cooking food wafted up and reminded Will that it had been a while since he had eaten. He begrudgingly walked down the stairs and to the kitchen.

The sight of Hannibal cooking, while in his pajamas was something that caught Will off guard. For some reason, he had expected to find him in one of his fancy suits, maybe with the jacket discarded and sleeves rolled up, despite knowing he had not dressed before he had gone down.

Hannibal’s hair was somehow absurdly perfect for having not been managed since he had woken up, and it fell in a soft fringe over his brow.

“Will you be needed at the academy today?” Hannibal asked as he worked, “or will I have you to myself?”

Will felt his face grow warm and he shrugged.

“I don't have classes today, but Jack will probably want me to go in and help finalize everything with the case.”

Will swallowed after he finished speaking, keeping his eyes on Hannibal's hands rather than his face. He could have said that he had papers to grade and dogs to take care of. He could have lied and said he needed to leave so he could get back to Quantico before classes started. Something about Hannibal, and the way he had asked, made him be honest. Maybe he was curious to see what Hannibal might have in mind.

“I do not have any patients today, so it seems the time is ours to fill, at least until Agent Crawford calls you back to the team. I think I should offer to wash your clothes after breakfast,” Hannibal said.

Will tapped his fingers against his leg, moving his gaze to the steaming cup of coffee Hannibal slid toward him on the counter. He thought of the clothes on the chair in the room upstairs. They had been soaked in sweat and he had worn them for an entire day. He couldn't wear them again unless they were washed.

“Sure,” Will mumbled, “I don't want to be an inconvenience to you, but I don't really have a better alternative.”

Hannibal nodded, his lips quirked up into a small smile. 

“I hope you do not think it is an inconvenience,” he said, “on my days off I am typically left to my own devices. It is a pleasure to have company instead.”

Will hadn't thought of that. Picturing Hannibal, he really couldn't imagine him going out with friends and just hanging out in a bar, or anything like that. Hannibal only seemed suited for formal settings, and apparently that made him be alone during his time off.

“Well, I hope my company can be at least a little bit of an improvement,” Will said, taking a sip of his coffee, “and not such a downgrade that you toss me to the curb.”

Will wasn't sure what had made him say it, but Hannibal looked up at him and seemed so pleased that he couldn't make himself regret it. He tried to shove down the nervous lump in his throat by taking another drink of his coffee. It tasted so damn fancy that Will couldn't decide if he actually liked it more than his cheap stuff.

“I always enjoy your company, Will. I believe it is impossible for you to do anything other than improve the quality of my time.”

Will took a large gulp of his coffee, unsure of how he was supposed to answer.

Hannibal finished putting the food on two plates and picked them up. He didn't bring them into the dining room, like Will expected. Instead, he placed them on a table that was in the kitchen.

“Forgive the less formal seating,” Hannibal said, “breakfast is by nature a less formal meal, and I think you will be more comfortable eating here than at a mostly empty table.”

Will blinked in surprise and glanced up, meeting Hannibal's eyes.

“Uh, yeah. I guess so,” he said, taking his seat, “thanks for considering me.”

Hannibal seemed amused, smiling as he also sat at the table. 

“I have very little else to consider, Will. My preference always comes second to you as my guest.”

Will noticed he hadn't said his preference came second to all his guests, just Will. It might have been an incidental wording, but Hannibal was usually so careful with his words. Hannibal also almost always considered his preferences nearly first, Will knew. 

Will felt his hands growing cold and remembered exactly how long it had been since he had touched Hannibal. He hated it, glaring down at his own hands as if they had betrayed him.

Hannibal reached over the table and laid his hand over Will's. Will looked up, and Hannibal was acting as if it was perfectly natural.

“I think we would both be more comfortable if we do not have to worry about our odd temperatures as we eat,” Hannibal said, making everything sound perfectly logical.

Will picked up his fork with his remaining hand, noting that Hannibal was using his left to eat. 

“You know, I said before that I'm not exactly relationship material. You really don't have to try to make it work. We're both pretty solitary people, obviously, so we really don't have to try.”

Hannibal curled his fingers around Will's hand.

“Would you like me to respond with a logical answer, or an emotional one?” Hannibal asked, a touch of amused humor in his voice.

Will furrowed his brow. He stared down at his hand, enclosed within Hannibal's.

“I think logical, to start,” Will said, unsure of what emotional would look like coming from Hannibal.

Hannibal nodded.

“You may not have noticed, but after our initial contact our temperature shifts have become more drastic and extreme. I theorize that we are becoming somewhat dependent on one another, at least through our temperatures. I believe it would be unwise of us to separate from each other for any extreme length of time.” 

Will was silent. Thinking back, things had become more extreme after they met. It seemed like every time they had contact, the time before his temperature spiked in either direction grew shorter.

Will sort of hated being tied to another person in this way. Of course, he had always hoped he would find the other half of his link, but the thought of being dependent on someone in such a way terrified him. He hadn't expected the link to change.

“Okay,” Will said carefully, “then what is the emotional side?”

Hannibal smiled.

“You told me you used to expect being alone for your life,” he said softly, lifting Will's hind to his lips and pressing a kiss to his palm, “I did as well. You said you will not choose that now there is another option, and neither will I.”

Will felt his face grow warm, and he was certain for once that it was not because of his stupid erratic temp. 

“I-I was, I didn't know what I was saying,” Will said, pulling his hand away, “I was worried you were going to reject me and I would be alone again. I didn't think at all. We're nothing alike.”

Will wasn't sure why he was letting any of those words out of his mouth. He had tried so hard to catch Hannibal, and now he was trying to throw him back. They were soul mates. Surely they could make it work. 

Maybe he just wanted it to really be Hannibal's decision. He didn't want to feel like he had forced him into anything.

Hannibal carefully set his silverware down and tipped his head curiously.

“So you would reject me because you fear me doing so to you,” Hannibal concluded.

Will sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“No,” he said, “I'm not rejecting you. I just don't think this will work, and I don't know what to do.”

Hannibal hummed in thought.

“If you would like me to stop, I will,” he said, “but my opinion is that we can only succeed if we try. I would like to see if we can make it work.”

Will swallowed, staring at the collar of Hannibal's nightshirt. 

There was so much wrong with Will. He was completely unstable and he had killers running rampant through his head. He dreamt of killing, of dying, and enjoying it all. He got so close to killers that he sometimes didn't know where the boundaries lay between them and himself. He couldn't even maintain eye contact with his own soulmate.

Will glanced up at Hannibal's face and caught his eyes for a moment.

Hannibal was perfect. He was successful and smart and stable. He cooked and played instruments and admired art. He attended parties and drew pictures that were flawless. He could make anyone like him, and everyone respect him. He was willing to tie himself to a mess of a man, with confidence that he could succeed.

If Will weren't selfish at all, he would have left then, and let Hannibal continue his perfect life. He would have left, letting Hannibal begin to forget him and move on to be happy.

There was a look in the maroon eyes when he met them, though, that all but demanded he be selfish. Something that told him the hunt was his, and victory was near.

Will sighed and put his hand back down on the table.

“Okay,” he said, “we can try, but I'm going to be hell for you.”

Hannibal smiled and set his hand back over Will's as he had before.

Will's phone rang, drawing the attention of both men. Will huffed unhappily and pulled it from the pocket of the pajamas he was borrowing.

It was Jack. Of course it was.

“Jack,” Will said, “tell me this is important.”

Jack hummed a bit on the other end. He sounded almost amused.

“What? Do you have plans?” He asked, clearly doubtful.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Will replied, “since you didn't let me have the day off I asked for. Speak quickly and convince me I did the right thing when I answered.”

There was a confused grunt from the phone and Will waited, ready to hang up at any moment.

“I'd like you to come in,” Jack said, “Katz wants to talk to you. Zeller and Price think it would be good to have the full team here for some quick work.”

Will hummed, putting some more food in his mouth and glancing to Hannibal. The man was watching him intensely, and his hand was fairly set on top of Will's. Will turned his hand over and entwined them together.

“Sorry, Jack. Not today. Tell Beverly I'll be in tomorrow to see what she needs. Price and Zeller can try to catch me then too if it's that important. I'm not a forensic guy. I'm a profiler. You all can wait, unless this is an order.”

Jack could sense the warning behind Will's words and paused uncomfortably.

“No. It's not and order. You deserve a day off. Make sure you're on top of your game when you get back. I'll need you.”

The call ended and Will placed his phone on the table next to his plate. He smiled at Hannibal, but feeling tight apprehension in his chest at the sight of his pleased smirk.

“The day is ours, unless you change your mind,” Will said, knowing his voice was shaking enough that Hannibal would notice.

Hannibal smiled back, his hand sliding up to Will's wrist. He lifted it once more and pressed his lips to the visible veins there.

“I don't change my mind often.”


	25. Cold Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finally gets a vacation day.

Hannibal had to admit, things had gone far better than he had expected. Having Will wander into his room in the middle of the night was a pleasant surprise. The sight of Will, in Hannibal's borrowed pajamas, sweaty and desperate for help, had made Hannibal consider changing his mind about certain things.

Ultimately, he had settled with pulling the poor man close and pressing a kiss to his forehead. Will had shuddered and relaxed as their temperatures equalized. 

Will's hazy eyes had stared at him in the dark, and Hannibal whispered to him until they closed. 

Hannibal would now bide his time, letting Will's mind grow pliable with his infection, until he could do as he wished. Will was proving malleable to his own mind already, and shaping his mind would be much easier as he fostered his dependence on their temperatures.

Will quickly finished his breakfast, and Hannibal washed his clothes for him while Will showered. He had sweated through his clothes, after all, and wanted to scrub the salty grit from his skin.

Hannibal placed the newly cleaned clothes on the bathroom counter as Will washed, leaving before Will got out of the shower.

Will emerged as Hannibal finished cleaning the breakfast dishes. He stood in the doorway of the kitchen, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Hannibal dried his hands and turned to Will.

“I hope you are feeling better,” he said, feeling a bit of sweat gathering on the back of his neck. 

It really would be inconvenient to have the spaces between temperature changes be so small.

Will wet his lips and nodded, not making eye contact. Something was causing him to be less confident than Hannibal had ever seen him. 

“I hope my proximity is not causing you any distress,” Hannibal said, trying to lessen his discomfort.

Will froze, looking up at Hannibal with piercing eyes.

All at once, Hannibal was pressed up against the counter with Will clutching at the front of his suit. Will pulled him into a desperate kiss, and Hannibal smiled into it.

“I think it was the distance, actually,” Will confessed when he pulled away.

“I am certainly not complaining,” Hannibal replied, sliding his hand around the nape of Will’s neck. He pulled him into a softer kiss, relishing the feeling of Will’s damp curls in his fingers.

The fact that their temperatures had equalized only barely registered in the back of Hannibal’s mind, having better things to think about.

\---

“Do you play?” Hannibal asked, sitting at his piano.

Will glanced up from the couch Hannibal had just vacated.

“What would give you that kind of idea?” Will asked.

Hannibal smiled, playing out the first few lines of a song.

“You have a piano in your house. I assume it serves some purpose,” he replied, continuing the melody.

Will sighed gruffly.

“I forgot you've been,” he said, “I only play when I'm frustrated. It's cathartic.”

Hannibal huffed a laugh. That was interesting. Perhaps his empathy had something to do with it. Hannibal could imagine Will becoming overwhelmed with the chaos of the world and sitting down to his cluttered piano. Music has the power to rouse emotions in us, so it served to believe it could also aid in their regulation.

“What do you play?” Hannibal asked.

Will chuffed.

“Any simple song I can remember. I don't know anything impressive. Sometimes I don't even play a song. I just pound on the keys.”

Hannibal nodded. 

“How very apt of you.”

Will laughed, and Hannibal's smile grew.

“I try not to. I don't want to damage the piano. I only do that if the melodies get too tedious. I never bothered to teach myself anything very exciting.”

Will had his head laid back on the armrest as he had the night before, closing his eyes as he spoke. He seemed almost unaware of what he was saying, though it couldn't be blamed on exhaustion this time.

Hannibal switched songs seamlessly, starting on something a bit more interesting. Will looked up upon hearing the change to a minor key, but he didn’t make a comment. After a moment, he put his head back down and listened. 

Hannibal continued to play, content with the lack of other sound between them for the moment. He noticed when his skin cooled drastically in coordination with Will tensing from the corner of his eye.

Hannibal looked over to see Will sit up, his eyes hazy as they had been the night before and his muscles taut as if ready for a fight.

Hannibal continued playing, curious to see what Will would do.

Will stood and walked over to Hannibal, as if pulled by some unknown force. He stood behind him for a heartbeat before he slumped forward and all but draped himself over Hannibal’s shoulder.

Hannibal grinned and caught him, feeling their temperatures even out. He maneuvered Will so he was sitting next to him on the piano bench and they could face each other.

This illness was going to make things very interesting.

“Will, do you know where you are?” Hannibal asked softly.

Will blinked, but his eyes remained unfocused.

“I’m at Doctor Lecter’s house,” he said flatly.

“That’s correct,” Hannibal said with a nod, “How do you feel?”

Will was silent for a moment, his face never changing from its blank, almost confused expression.

“I feel cool,” he said at last, “I was so hot before. You fixed it.”

Hannibal nodded again.

“Do you remember your dream from last night?” He asked despite himself. He was terribly curious.

Will frowned.

“I was burning. I died. Everything was burning, and too hot. When I died, it was cool, and better. It was comfortable.”

Hannibal held onto Will’s shoulders and rubbed them slightly in a soothing motion. That could be somewhat concerning. He wasn’t sure if Will was beginning to see his own death in a positive light or not, but he hoped not.

“I think I will make you some tea,” Hannibal said, standing and pulling Will up along with him.

Will followed obediently. He sat when Hannibal asked him to, and waited as the tea boiled. Hannibal admitted to himself that he much preferred Will when he was completely conscious, but this was something he could easily use to their mutual benefit, so he tried not to begrudge it too much.


	26. Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is ill

Will woke when something warm and flavorful spread over his tongue.

He was so surprised he choked on the soup, barely managing not to spit it all over the concerned face in front of him. Hannibal cupped his hand behind Will's neck and tipped his head so they were eye to eye as Will caught his breath.

“What-?” Will coughed.

“What is the last thing you remember, Will?” Hannibal asked.

Will thought for a moment, unable to tear his gaze away from the intense, maroon eyes that stared into his.

“You were playing the piano,” Will managed to say at last, “and I was laying on the couch.”

Hannibal nodded, scooping another spoonful of soup up. He held it gently and slowly brought it to Will's lips. Will opened his mouth obediently and swallowed the warm liquid.

“Fortunately, I believe I was able to recognize when the dissociation occurred,” Hannibal said as he prepared another spoonful, “I would be even more concerned if I was not. Do you remember any dreams this time?”

Will swallowed the next spoonful of soup and tried to remember. His mind was still foggy, and he only had snippets of memories. Nothing was making sense in that moment.

“There was something,” Will admitted, “but I don't remember.”

Hannibal nodded.

“How do you feel now?” He asked.

Will wet his lips, feeling almost like his actions were not his own. He flexed his fingers, but it felt like manipulating a marionette. 

“Unmoored,” he confessed.

Hannibal set the spoon down in the bowl. Will stared at his vest, noticing he wasn't wearing his full suit anymore. Hannibal sighed lightly before he slid both his hands around the back of Will's neck and pulled him into a kiss. 

Will came crashing into reality, feeling everything with intensity. He curled his fingers into Hannibal's vest and held on to him like a lifeline.

Hannibal pulled away and pressed their foreheads together. Will kept his eyes pressed shut, his brow furrowed in worry.

Hannibal rubbed a thumb over Will's jaw in a soothing motion.

“I'm going to be hell for you,” Will said miserably, “somethings wrong with me.”

Hannibal was silent for a moment, continuing his calming strokes.

“Nothing is wrong with you, Will. A mind so great as yours should not be put through such abuse as your work is. A noble heart such as yours would never let it be idle. Your virtues create your weaknesses.”

Will felt tears falling down his cheeks and he barked a harsh laugh, opening his eyes. He looked down at Hannibal's vest, unable to meet his eyes.

“You don't deserve this,” Will continued, “and I don't think I can keep doing this. I need to see a doctor or something. This can't be normal.”

Hannibal pulled him close and laid Will's head on his shoulder. Will could hear his heart beating steadily in his chest, and it was calming. Everything about Hannibal was calming. Why couldn't Will just be good enough to deserve it?

“You remember I am a doctor,” Hannibal said quietly, almost teasing, “but if you want a second opinion, we will get one.”

Will wanted to kiss Hannibal again. He wanted to scream at him. He didn't know why any of this was happening. Hannibal saw how broken Will was, and he had still used the word we. He didn't deserve this.

“Why is this happening?” he choked out desperately.

Hannibal hummed, stroking the curls on the back of his head.

“Sleepwalking in adults is usually triggered by something,” Hannibal explained, “things such as erratic sleep schedules and the consumption of alcohol. Also sleep deprivation and extreme mental duress. You and I both know these could be playing a part in your health.”

Will laughed miserably into Hannibal’s shoulder, trying not to sob.

Of course, this could all be triggered by things he was doing. He was stupidly ruining his own life by having the worst habits known to man and just being a mess in general. Of course this would happen to him, and Hannibal would try to guide him through it.

If Murphy's law ever applied to anyone, it would be Will Graham.

“So, you’re saying I should get more sleep, drink less, and relax more?” Will asked, trying to sound happy or joking, but failing and sounding as hopeless as he felt.

Hannibal huffed a laugh into his hair anyway.

“That would be a good place to start. I think you would also benefit from proper nutrition and more regular schedules in general. Perhaps tell Jack a few days a week that you will not work for him during.”

Will laughed in reply, relaxing a bit at his own folly and the comfortable way Hannibal seemed to be dealing with everything.

“I think I should start with the sleeping and drinking,” he said, “small steps. I’m not going to remodel my entire life overnight.”

Hannibal nodded, and Will could feel it. The slight movement of the muscles in Hannibal’s neck and the soft rub of his jaw over Will’s hair.

“I agree. I would like to help you in any way I am capable. Will you start by finishing the soup?”

Will huffed a laugh and despised the idea of moving away from Hannibal, but he nodded. He needed to eat better anyway. The soup was really good too.

\---

Will dropped himself onto the mattress of his bed and laid down with his legs hanging over the edge. He stared up at the ceiling of his little house and listened to the dogs playing in the yard.

The images were slowly returning to him, and his gut was twisting itself into all sorts of shapes at the ideas they were giving him.

Hannibal, with great, black, antlers. He stood over a corpse, his maroon eyes watching Will with curiosity. Blood dripped from his hands and from his mouth, creating oil paintings on the white floor around him. 

Hannibal, slowly reaching down and pulling a still beating heart from the body. Extending it toward Will with his same curious eyes. Will had eaten it. He had accepted the living heart of the dying man and eaten it from Hannibal’s hand.

Will had never put much stock in the meanings of dreams, but they had been making more sense recently, until this one.

The one just before, where he had been burning. It had made sense afterwards. He had gone to Hannibal when he was burning, and had been healed. It made at least a bit of sense.

This one, though. Will could make neither head nor tails of it, and it was frustrating him. 

His phone rang, and Will answered without sitting up.

“Graham.”

“Will, we've got a strange one,” Beverley's voice said.

Will sat up.

“Why isn't Jack calling me?” He asked.

Beverly huffed a laugh on the other end.

“He says he thinks you'll be more likely to come in if I ask you. Something you did really threw him off his groove. Anything I should be worried about?”

Will cursed through his grin, putting a hand to his forehead.

“I had plans one day,” he said, “it's not like I quit. Where do you need me?”

Beverly read off an address and Will stood up to get ready. Hannibal had asked if he could drive Will into Quantico that day, and Will had tried to refuse. He shot him a text explaining the situation and got one back saying that Hannibal was already on his way.

Will combed his hair, which he had been doing more often since meeting Hannibal, and fed the dogs. 

Hannibal had been around more and more, either inviting Will to his house or accompanying him to his own. He said it was partly to help with the temperature changes, but Will was still not used to it. People just didn't do that kind of thing for him. The sleepwalking had gotten worse when his temperature got higher, which was more frequent when they were apart.

Will decided against wearing a coat this morning, despite his icy skin, and Hannibal pulled up.

Will locked the door behind himself and walked up to Hannibal who stood outside the car to open his door. Hannibal smiled and pulled Will into a kiss. He inhaled when they parted, and Will was having a hard time getting used to the fact that Hannibal seemed to always smell him.

Feeling warmer, Will smiled up at Hannibal.

“Sorry we won't be able to get coffee or anything,” he said, “but Beverly says its soup.”

Hannibal stepped around the car and raised his eyebrows as he opened the door.

“Then we should be on our way,” he replied, “your responsibility awaits.”

Will regretted not being able to spend the rest of the morning with Hannibal, but he had told Jack that he would help, so he had an obligation to come when called. Jack knew what kind of cases he needed Will for, after all.

“I would venture to guess that you will not be open for lunch today, and possibly not again for a few days,” Hannibal said, “but would you like me to bring you anything? You are welcome to dinner if you are able.”

Will shrugged as he got out of the car. 

“I know you already have some sort of plan,” he teased, “I'll try for dinner, but I don't know. See you later.”

Hannibal waved as he pulled away, and Will approached the motel. 

Jack was waiting outside a door that was surrounded by police tape. 

“I heard its soup,” Will said.

Jack nodded.

“Some things are more messed up than others,” he said, “and this is on the higher end of the scale for sure.”

Through the door, Will saw the Angels. He asked for a plastic sheet.

The pendulum swung, time reversed. It swung, wings retracted. It swung, blood and breath returned.

This was their exaltation, and it was his design.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The hills are alive with the sound of manipulation and betrayal* 
> 
> How soft Hannibal is when he is being the worst.


	27. Cold Day in Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mostly fluff

Hannibal was allowed into the labs with only a few odd glances. He watched from the doorway for a moment as Will walked about the tables, talking.

“So, he has a brain tumor. His thinking is changing. He feels abandoned by God. He is taking his fate into his own hands, and punishing people he thinks deserve to be punished. He's afraid of dying.”

Will turned and caught sight of Hannibal. His eyes lit up and his lips twitched up into a smile.

“Uh, he will be exhibiting behaviors, like isolating himself, avoiding social interactions, and cutting off communication with loved ones. He won't seem like the violent type, he may not even act religiously outside of this. He isn't going to look like what anyone expects, but he's sick.”

Price and Zeller continued working. Zeller had been giving Will some incredulous glances during his talking, but Jack exuded approval from his position in the corner. Beverly also seemed pleased, but her glances flicked to Hannibal more than Will.

Will walked over to Hannibal with a small smile.

“Were you called in, Doctor Lecter?” He asked.

Hannibal gave an exaggerated sigh, rolling his shoulders within his coat. 

“Unfortunately, or not, the team does not seem to be in need of any psychiatric consults. I likely have you to thank for that.”

Will huffed a laugh.

“Well, I won't apologize. At least I’m good for something. Come in for any specific reason, then, or just like to look at dead bodies?” 

The tease was hesitant and Hannibal could tell Will felt a little awkward saying it, likely not knowing how it would be received.

“As I said, the dead are not what brought me here. I came to make sure you do not join them. Here is something to eat,” Hannibal said with a smile.

Hannibal set the container of still warm food into Will’s hands, making sure their fingers brushed together and evened their temperatures out.

Will’s lopsided grin shone up at him, and Hannibal wanted to kiss it off of him. Will was uncomfortable letting everyone know he was dating his psychiatrist, so he refrained. 

“Thanks,” Will said.

“Graham,” Jack interrupted from across the room, “Come here.”

Will offered Hannibal an apologetic shrug and turned to answer Jack.

Hannibal watched him, content to stay for a few minutes. Beverly walked over and stood next to him. They both faced the examination tables, and Beverly crossed her arms.

“Thanks,” She said in a low voice.

Hannibal hummed noncommittally. 

“I cannot think of what you might be thanking me for,” He said, genuinely uncertain.

“I’m not blind. Will is happier, he works better, he’s standing up to Jack. You’re really helping him out,” She said, casting a sideways glance his way, “You’re his link, aren’t you?”

Hannibal pressed his lips together, but smiled.

“He does not want me to say,” he admitted.

Beverly nodded.

“They might make him get a different shrink,” she agreed, “I don’t plan to out you guys. I just want you to know that he really is doing better. I can tell. You’re good for him.”

Hannibal was pleased to hear her say that. He had noticed the shift in Will’s mood recently, but the fact that she had correctly attributed it to him gave him an immense feeling of pride, especially as he watched Will talk with Jack in the lab. He seemed so confident and healthy. 

“Are the other members of the team blind?” Hannibal asked, using her words in the hope she would understand the intended meaning.

Beverly huffed a laugh.

“As bats,” She said, “Don’t worry. Price and Zeller don’t care, and Jack just thinks it’s because he’s seeing a psychiatrist. I guess he’s technically right.”

Her tone was teasing and Hannibal smiled genuinely to her.

“I rarely worry,” he replied, “but I am grateful to you for not saying anything, for Will's sake.”

Will, seeming to sense he was being talked about, glanced over curiously. He raised an eyebrow at Hannibal, who only smiled fondly in return.

“Katz, there's still work to be done over here,” Jack barked, “let Doctor Lecter get on with his day. I'm sure he has other things to do.”

Beverly gave an exasperated roll of her eyes and shrugged to Hannibal. She turned away and walked to her station. Jack was gruff, but Hannibal noticed the self-satisfied smirks he wore when Will had his back turned. He truly had noticed.

Hannibal decided his work was done there, though he could have watched Will work for much longer, and he should be leaving.

When Will glanced over next, Hannibal waved, and a Will nodded. Hannibal made his way back out to his car, feeling satisfied that everything was going well.

\---

Hannibal was just finishing his dinner preparations when there was a knock at the door. He quickly washed up and answered it.

Immediately, Will pulled him into a kiss, and he smiled despite his surprise.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” Hannibal said, pulling Will inside and closing the door behind him, “I hadn’t expected you to have free time again so soon.”

Will grinned, holding onto the front of Hannibal’s shirt and letting his head fall to rest on Hannibal’s shoulder.

“We caught him,” he said breathlessly, “We were almost too late, but we caught him. Jack is glad as can be, and he let me take off early.”

Hannibal hummed happily.

“You’ve done well,” he said, stroking the back of Will’s head, “Could I offer you dinner? You more than deserve it.”

Will laughed.

“I’m starved,” he said, “and I was getting too cold anyhow. What’d you make?”

Hannibal huffed a laugh and led Will to the kitchen. The sharp smell of his illness was getting stronger, but they only had a few days to wait for his brain scan. Hannibal was not worried in the least.

“Please, if you would like to, I think I would enjoy hearing about the case, since it has you in such high spirits,” Hannibal requested, setting the plates on the table.

Will hummed in agreement as he took his first bite.

“You heard plenty of my profile, standing in the door like a specter, but we tracked down a suspect pretty quick after. We couldn’t find him, because his wife left him after she found out he was sick. We found another body, but it was clear he was getting near the end of his run. We caught him in a barn from his childhood. He almost killed himself before we got there.”

A shadow of something passed over Will’s features, then, and he furrowed his brow in confusion.

“I can’t help but feel bad for catching him,” he confessed, avoiding eye contact, “he wanted to be in control of his own fate, and I took that from him. He wanted to make his final decision, and take that power from the hands of god, but I put it into the hands of the system instead.”

Hannibal tipped his head curiously.

“Your capacity to connect never ceases to charm me,” he said with a smile, “you have the ability to understand the thinking of a killer so well that you even manage to feel bad for taking them into custody, despite continuing to do so. I wonder if there will ever be one you grow to understand so well that you would be unable to stop them.”

Will’s eyes grew wide with fear and excitement.

“I, uh, I hope not,” he said nervously, “I know that it’s a possibility, but if Jack ever thought that, I would be out a job at the very least. I don’t know what a killer would do that could make that happen.”

Will was embracing the fear he felt about the hypothetical situation, to satisfy the side of him driven by justice. He would rather feel afraid of his potential than to face it.

“Then let us hope you are never tested in that way,” Hannibal said, unable to keep the bit of amusement from his voice, “It is your responsibility to uphold the law, after all.”

Will gave him a curious and lopsided smile. It was almost as if he were confused or concerned, but he did not voice his thoughts.


	28. Burning Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More piano, because I am a sucker for that kind of stuff.

When Will decided to be honest with himself, he knew there was so much more he could have said. Maybe more he should have said. 

When they caught the angel maker, he had felt conflicted for more than just taking away his final choice. The victims had all deserved to die. They had been criminals. Terrible ones. He had done the world a favor, and the world had punished him for it.

Then there was the idea of a criminal he wouldn't stop. Will knew that was entirely too possible, especially the more killers he let into his head. He could almost feel his mind changing, and his thinking evolving.

There was one person he knew he could never arrest or kill, no matter what crime they committed. 

Hannibal. He had fallen too hard, and if Hannibal were ever to betray him, Will knew he would be almost helpless to it. He was entirely too dependent on him, and not only because of his temperature.

Something about Hannibal just inspired comfort in Will. He had never judged Will for anything he had said or done, and he had been given plenty of opportunity. He was one person in the world who made him feel understood, and even appreciated. He never had to worry about if Hannibal didn't understand what he was saying. He almost always understood, and he would say if he didn't.

Will knew it was true. If Hannibal betrayed him at this point, it might break him, but he wouldn't be able to stop him.

Will bit his lip hard, trying to focus on playing the piano. Hannibal's was so much nicer than the one he had at home, but Will's playing did its quality an injustice. His fingers fumbled over the keys with a lack of grace he had never considered himself to possess.

Hannibal had been pretending to read as he sat on the couch, but Will had seen every twitch of his lip and crinkle of his eyes when he was doing particularly poorly. He knew Hannibal was pleased and highly amused, but it still gave him a touch of irritation that he was silently making fun of his lack of skill.

Will took a deep breath and set his jaw, deciding he would get through the next song.

Seven measures into Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, his fingers tripped over each other and he felt his face grow warm with frustration. 

Maybe it wasn't just frustration, because he started sweating and felt far too warm. 

He huffed a breath, but before he could take his hands from the keys, a strong, cool set of fingers covered his with calming, steady palms over the backs of his hands. It hit Will with renewed force as he looked at their contrasting hands, that his hands were not artistic. Hannibal's fingers were longer than his, and strong, but slender. His own hands were clearly for working, and rough play with dogs.

“You are trying too hard,” Hannibal said, his voice a warm breath in Will's ear, “you should relax. Tense fingers make clumsy hands.”

Will huffed a laugh, ducking his head with a smile.

“I guess I'm just not as artistic as you,” Will confessed, turning his right hand to entwine their fingers together.

Having his temperature be normal so often was beginning to spoil him, he knew. Most people had to go their entire work day without a touch from their link, but he saw Hannibal almost every couple of hours. Hannibal was very good at coming up with reasons to see will at work, and no one had seemed to question why a psychiatrist was so invested in his patient. Will wondered how Hannibal managed it, with all his patients.

“Your natural talents lie elsewhere,” Hannibal admitted, “but anything is possible with practice and a good teacher.”

Will smiled and turned his head to catch Hannibal's lips in a kiss. 

“Are you a good teacher?” He teased, pulling back just so their noses were brushing.

“That is completely subjective,” Hannibal mumbled, his eyes closed as he leaned forward so their lips were brushing.

Will smiled into the kiss Hannibal offered, feeling more at home than he ever had. 

“I wonder who would be more distracted,” he mused, his own eyes closed now as their foreheads pressed together, “were you to try and teach me.”

Hannibal laughed quietly, his breath tickling Will's nose.

“Most certainly myself,” he said, “my mind is never clear when in your presence. Even in your absence, there is rarely anything else on my mind.

Will laughed. He almost couldn't believe it, but Hannibal had never lied or misled him. He could feel the affection radiating from Hannibal, and he believed him. Hannibal thought about Will as much as Will thought about him. 

Will turned fully, then, pulling Hannibal into a better positioned kiss. 

“Maybe after we figure out what’s going on with my sleepwalking, I’ll be able to play better,” he said.

A touch of a frown pulled at Hannibal’s lips, but he nodded.

“I want you to be prepared for the possibility that there is nothing to find on the scan,” He said carefully, sitting on the bench next to Will and clasping their hands together, “Some illnesses are not physical.”

Will swallowed, staring down at their entwined fingers as Hannibal stroked his thumb over Will’s hand. 

“You mean it could be psychological,” Will concluded, knowing his voice was shaking, “I might just be going crazy.”

He said it with a laugh, though he knew Hannibal could tell how scared the thought made him. Crazy people went to mental hospitals. They were put in straight jackets and padded cells, given medications to keep them pacified and unaware. He had seen some of the worst, and it had haunted him all his life.

“If the problem is psychological, there are things that can be done to help,” Hannibal offered softly.

Will laughed again, starting to sound almost hysterical, even to himself.

“Yeah. I know all about those things,” he said, tensing at the images in his head, “Tables with belts on them to keep patients from moving. Pills, solitary confinement, shock therapy. I know all about what would happen. There have been people trying to get me there all my life.”

Hannibal pulled Will into an embrace, laying his head on Hannibal’s shoulder and carding his fingers through Will’s hair.

“No matter what the scan shows, I will not let that happen to you,” he mumbled into Will’s ear, “We will find a way to work through this.”

Will took a shaky breath against Hannibal’s shoulder. He clung to the other man like he was the only thing keeping him above water.

Hannibal didn’t know, he couldn’t, how much it affected Will when he used the word _we_. Will had always been alone, and no one had wanted to associate themselves with him. Being a part of this, whatever it could be called, with Hannibal, was more than Will had ever dared hope for, let alone expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays <3


	29. Chill Pill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will sees a real doctor.

Doctor Sutcliff had managed to get them in sooner than they would have been able to if Hannibal hadn’t known him. Hannibal had chosen the day based on his estimation of how rapidly the infection would develop. 

Hannibal watched the computer screen as an image of Will’s brain slowly appeared. He saw immediately that there was an inflammation in the right hemisphere of his brain. It was severe enough that Hannibal wanted it to be treated. No use in damaging Will’s brain.

Will’s clear fear of mental institutions and their practices had made Hannibal decide strongly against allowing the illness to go undiagnosed for very much longer. He was interested to see what would happen, but he was far too fond of Will now to use him like a lab rat. There were too many things that could go wrong.

“If you suspected encephalitis, why didn’t you say something?” The doctor asked.

Hannibal studied him. He was a man who had never met the other half of his link, and wanted to despite his facade of indifference. He had done research on soulmates and the benefits of their unions. 

“Will is my soulmate,” Hannibal disclosed, turning back to look through the window at Will, “I did not wish to cause him any undue distress. I also did not wish to give him any false hope if the problem proved to be psychological. He fears not knowing who he is.”

Hannibal saw Doctor Sutcliff soften at the mention of their connection and look at Will with new appreciation, as if he had only been a faceless patient before. Now he had significance. 

“Well, then it really is good you brought him in. Much longer and he would be having a problem with that. Encephalitis is a serious subject.”

Hannibal nodded gravely. His mind itched with the thoughts of what might have been learned if he allowed the infection to develop in Will. Will may have become like putty in his fingers, malleable into whatever Hannibal wished for him to become. He might have realized the darkness he held more quickly and accepted it. 

He might have died.

“I care for Will greatly,” Hannibal confessed, turning back to face Doctor Sutcliff, “and he does not wish for it to become public knowledge that we are linked. I would appreciate it if you kept this information to yourself.”

Doctor Sutcliff looked at Hannibal with poorly concealed admiration. He saw Hannibal as someone who would do anything for their soulmate, and wanted only the best for them. He saw Hannibal as what he wished to be in the future.

“Of course. Patient confidentiality, and all that. Not a problem.”

Hannibal nodded in thanks and they went to meet Will.

\---

“So, you can see here that there is an inflammation,” Doctor Sutcliff pointed out to Will.

Will furrowed his brow and looked at Hannibal.

Hannibal offered a supportive smile.

“It’s encephalitis, Will,” he said.

Will nearly collapsed with relief, and Hannibal moved forward to support him before he fell. Will clutched at him like a drowning man, but grinned brilliantly.

“I’m not crazy,” he said, his voice shaking.

Hannibal shook his head, smiling.

“Never, Will. Not even a bit. You will improve in a few days, as long as you take the medications.”

Will laughed and buried his face into Hannibal’s jacket. He steadied his breathing before pulling away and turning to Doctor Sutcliff.

“Sorry. Thank you.”

Doctor Sutcliff was nearly glowing with pride at being able to bring happiness to a united soulmate couple. 

“It was no trouble at all. Please come to me if you have any other questions or concerns. I would be more than happy to help.”

Will blinked, but his relief at the diagnosis overcame any confusion or concern at the doctor’s eagerness to help.

Hannibal thought it was rather presumptive of him to think Will would come back to him. Will had Hannibal, and didn’t need any other doctors or their opinions. Hannibal would come to Doctor Sutcliff if he was needed, but he was sure he could help Will with anything smaller than this. 

They received the prescription and made their way back out to the parking lot. Will had a slight spring in his step as he walked, and a grin was constantly pulling at his lips. 

“I think this calls for something special for lunch,” Hannibal said, already planning out what he would cook.

Will turned to him with a grin, but didn't have the chance to respond because his phone rang. His grin dropped and he fished his phone from his pocket. The look on his face when he saw who it was let Hannibal know that it was Jack.

Of course it was.

“Hey, Jack,” Will answered, “yeah, I'm in the neighborhood.”

He paused as Jack spoke, and his eyes grew wide after a moment. His eyes flicked up to Hannibal a few times as he listened.

“Alright. I'll be a bit, but I'll be there. Tell whoever is in charge there not to touch anything.”

Will put his phone away and gave an exasperated sigh before turning to Hannibal, an apology on his lips.

“Jack calls you away from me again,” Hannibal said, “he appeals to your noble heart and you cannot say no.”

The words were fond and gentle, and Will smiled at him tiredly.

“If it was anything other than what it is, I would have said no,” he said, “but I have to go. I'll tell you about it at dinner, if that still works for both of us.”

Hannibal nodded and opened the car door for Will. Will kissed him before sliding into the car. 

No matter how often they kissed, it still left a small smile on Hannibal's lips when it was Will who initiated it. He had been nervous about it for a while at first, but he grew more confident the more time they spent together. 

When Will asked to be dropped off at the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, Hannibal grew even more curious. Will promised to do everything he could to make it to dinner and exited the car. He was showing clear nerves as he glanced up to the building and Hannibal wanted to soothe his fears, but he only watched as Will met Jack on the front steps.

As Hannibal drove back to his home, he wondered what would have called Will away from him today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a bit short for a chapter, but I'm getting ready to move to a different state, so I haven't had time to write as much. I hope you like this chapter, and I will try to have more for next update.


	30. Hot Warning

Will felt cold as he walked up the steps, but he wasn’t sure if it was from his link or from the looming feeling of dread that filled him as he stared up at the building. That seemed to be becoming a trend for him, not knowing where his temperature originated from. 

“I wouldn’t have called you in if I didn’t need you,” Jack said.

“I know,” Will said, not even bothering to look at Jack. He kept his gaze on the building like it was a slope he was readying to scale.

“You know I’ve been trying to catch the ripper for years,” Jack continued, clearly not as comfortable in this situation as he would be in others, “I need to be sure this either is or isn’t him.”

Will nodded, walking through the doors and finding himself face to face with a man who smiled at him with too much bravado. 

“Doctor Fredrick Chilton,” the man introduced himself, extending a hand, “I assume you are agent Will Graham. I am so pleased to meet you.”

Will took his hand, staring at his maroon tie where it lay under his brown blazer. The man stood with a lean, but it clearly wasn’t to do with any physical reason. He just stood that way to seem carefree and confident, though it actually gave him the appearance of someone who could easily be tipped over.

Will wondered how hard he would have to push him to watch him topple onto the floor.

“I would like to say the same, but I’m not too happy to be here,” Will said, stepping aside to let Jack through.

“I expect the scene is undisturbed for us?” Jack said, not bothering with a handshake.

Doctor Chilton didn’t turn toward Jack, studying Will with an odd and intrusive fascination.

“Yes, for something so disturbing I can guarantee it is very much undisturbed,” he replied.

The way he spoke set Will even more on edge. He tried to sound proper and educated, but it was so obviously forced that it grated on Will’s nerves. For Hannibal, it came naturally with his inherent elegance, but Chilton tried too hard to be seen as something he was not.

Will and Jack were led down a hall to a room that had the door ajar. Will could tell it had been looked at, and often. The door was open for convenience, but to give the appearance of consideration.

Inside, there was a body. 

Will had expected as much, but he tipped his head when he saw it all the same. Images flashed into his head of an older crime scene. 

“The wound man,” Will said aloud, not to anyone in particular, crouching to look more closely at the nurse, “The Chesapeake Ripper killed this way once before.”

Jack grunted in confirmation, and Doctor Chilton cleared his throat.

“Indeed he did, which is one of the reasons we are so convinced this is one of his,” he said.

Will stood, not turning or looking away, but knowing he drew their eyes, and his presence expanded to take the room to his attention.

“The Ripper didn’t do this,” he said, his voice as distant as his gaze. He could see everything. “He wouldn’t repeat a kill like this. He’s an artist and a poet. Each scene is unique, and meaningful. This is crass and cold. Heartless. This has no meaning other than to catch our eye, and convince us he is who he says he is.”

Will could feel the disagreement emanating from Doctor Chilton, alongside the deep satisfaction that radiated from Jack. He had known, and Will had confirmed it, solidifying it in his mind as fact rather than speculation.

“Perhaps you would like to speak with him, and then make your assumptions,” Doctor Chilton drawled, trying to sound uninterested. 

Will could hear the terseness in his voice. The pain at being contradicted. The indignance at being told he was wrong. Under it all was a note of curiosity. He wanted to know what made Will tick.

Will did turn, then. He faced Jack and the Doctor, not letting his gaze fall on either of them, but staring at the top of the doorway they both stood in. A light smile pulled at the corners of his mouth and he nodded ever so slightly.

“I think I probably should. It could give me some insight.”

\---

“So, Mister Graham. I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you before. I can’t help but wonder what you think I will tell you that I won’t tell anyone else. I told Doctor Bloom quite a few things, but I met her quite a while ago.”

Will smiled wryly at Abel Gideon, trying not to grimace at his attitude. He was as arrogant as they came, but Will wasn’t sure if that was his natural state, or if he had developed it over the course of his incarceration.

“I don’t think you will tell me anything you don’t want to,” Will replied dryly, “But my specialty is nonverbal communication. I’ll ask you questions, but your answers are not what I put in my notes.”

Gideon raised his eyebrows, impressed.

“So, are you reading my body language, then? If I blink too much, you’ll know I’m lying?”

Will took a deep breath. This guy was going to be an annoying one.

“I don’t believe you are the Chesapeake Ripper,” Will said instead of dignifying the question with an answer.

Gideon nodded thoughtfully.

“I never did like that name. I don’t really rip, do I? It’s just not quite accurate.”

Will watched the man watch him. Observing each other in their observance. It was like seeing himself on a security camera, and feeling the eye on you in the memory.

“No,” Will said, “what the Ripper does is artistic. Tell me, what was your purpose for killing the nurse?”

Abel pressed his forehead against the bars, watching Will like a snake in a zoo watching the children pass by before feeding time. He thought of Will as prey, only out of his reach.

“My purpose in killing her, was for her to die,” he replied, “I don’t know why you would expect anything else.”

Will nodded, He hadn’t. 

“When you killed your family,” he continued, “you didn’t display them like you did the nurse. You didn’t make them into art.”

Abel shrugged as if it was of no consequence.

“Crime of passion,” he said.

Will knew all of this. He also knew the Ripper would never be so crass or artless. The Ripper wouldn’t be so talkative in such a casual way. The Ripper had purpose and prose.

“When did you decide to reveal yourself as the ripper?” Will asked, trying not to sound as uninterested as he truly was.

Gideon considered for a moment. 

“Perhaps it was when Doctor Chilton’s therapy truly began to take effect,” he said, every word a long drawl that seemed to drip from his tongue like hot molasses. 

Will repressed a grimace. That had let him know what he wanted, but he knew this “Doctor” would not have been able to make a psychopath repentant.

“Perhaps his therapy didn't make you want to confess,” Will said, “maybe it made you believe in what he thought.”

Abel leaned his head back slightly, taking a good look at Will as he stood with determination.

“Are you suggesting he manipulated me into thinking I'm the ripper, when I'm not?” He asked, not sounding angry, but more curious and amused.

Will flashed a sharp smile at him as their time came near its end.

“I'm pointing out that stranger things have happened,” he answered.

“That sounds rather unethical,” Gideon noted.

Will nodded.

“It is, if it is done on purpose. It is also possible that it was an inadvertent driving by him, due to his own beliefs and desires leaking through in your therapy sessions. I think it is time that I leave now, but thank you for talking with me.”

Will nodded to Abel as he turned to walk away, accompanied by an orderly. Abel looked up at the ceiling as he turned, seeming to consider what had been said.

When he laid eyes on Doctor Chilton again, Will knew he was not happy. 


	31. To the Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soft

Hannibal wiped the sweat from his brow and frowned at the sheen on his hand. He especially hated when he was warm, because sweat was one thing he truly hated.

He ran cold water over his hands before he carded them through his hair, knowing his hair would be veritably ruined, but needing to stave off the sweat for as long as he could. 

He had felt overly warm since the drive back to his house, and he wondered what exactly was keeping Will away. He had been making a habit of being nearly excessively early when they had dinner plans, blaming it on nerves. Hannibal knew he liked to watch him cook, and it pleased him. He had seen how Will’s eyes lingered on his hands as they worked, and how Will would stand back the perfect amount to take in his entire form while he moved about the kitchen.

Just as Hannibal placed the dish in the oven, he heard the doorbell. 

Will looked frustrated when he walked in. 

“I was worried you were not coming,” Hannibal admitted, taking Will’s coat.

Will sighed.

“Sorry. This was a really difficult case to be on. Jack and I are on the same page, but Doctor Chilton is adamant that we are both wrong.”

Hannibal tipped his head curiously.

“Doctor Fredrick Chilton?” he asked, though he knew the answer.

Will nodded.

“You know him?”

Hannibal nodded in return, leading the way to the kitchen.

“I am familiar with him, yes. What did you think of him?”

Will huffed, sitting at the table in the kitchen and slumping into his seat.

“He’s arrogant and proud. He doesn’t care much for privacy, and he thinks he knows better than everyone else. He wishes he could be like you. He wants people to see him as they see you.”

Hannibal smiled. All of that was true, he knew. Fredrick had changed his demeanor shortly after they had met, having latched onto the idea of being respected and admired. Hannibal would have been flattered if he had done himself any favors by the change.

“I hope you did not experience his lack of respect for privacy first hand,” Hannibal said, turning to pour some wine for Will.

Will hummed, clearly tired from the day’s work.

“Unfortunately, yeah. He’s very interested in the way my mind works, but that’s not really surprising. He’s a cold one, so he noticed how extreme my temp was right away. He tried to be discreet about it, in his own way. He doesn’t have a lot of tact.”

Hannibal would have to agree with that. He felt a surge of possessiveness and anger at the idea of Chilton touching Will, and then having the audacity to intrude on their life.

“So, what brought you to his hospital today?” he asked, sitting down at the table with Will.

Will wet his lips, tipping his head back to stare at the ceiling. His hand moved directly to clasp Hannibal’s, and Hannibal was glad to have him there.

“He thinks he has the Chesapeake Ripper in there,” Will stated.

That was a surprise. Hannibal rubbed his thumb over Will’s hand in a soothing motion, and Will closed his eyes.

“You think otherwise,” he said.

Will frowned.

“I know it’s not him. If you met Abel Gideon, you would too. He’s just not. He’s abrasive, he’s crass, he’s blunt. Nothing about him fits. Nothing that really matters, anyway.”

Hannibal smiled, knowing Will could not see it. 

Will was so clever. Abel Gideon was a fine candidate for suspicion, if one did not understand as well as Will did. He was a fine surgeon, and proud. He would seem perfect for the role, if not for Will knowing better.

“How do you see the Ripper?” He asked, his voice soft.

Will sighed, and his features relaxed.

“He cares about how he is perceived, even if that is as a killer. He has an intense interest in classical things, and he can incorporate those beautifully into his scenes. He is not casual in his observance of beauty. He does not see people as equal to himself, but rather a medium through which he can create art.”

Hannibal raised Will's hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Will was truly remarkable. Without knowing it, he knew exactly everything about him. He saw both sides of him, and the way he spoke about the killings made it clear that he loved them both.

Only Will was capable of that kind of love, and he was Hannibal's.

Will opened his eyes and blinked at Hannibal.

“Your hair is a mess.”

Hannibal chuckled, ducking his head. 

“Your absence left me overheated and I could not bear it,” he admitted.

Will laughed, lifting his free hand and running his fingers through the still damp hair on Hannibal's head. 

“You couldn't bear to be without me,” he said softly, a smile in his voice, “and I can't ever bear to be without you. I wonder if separation will ever be bearable.”

Hannibal lifted his head and met Will's blue eyes. Will's fingers curled tightly into his hair, not quite pulling yet. Hannibal pressed another kiss to the back of Will's hand.

“I should hope not,” he mumbled.

\---

Hearing that Will had been called away to look at a cheap copy of his work had been an unpleasant surprise, but it had given Hannibal the unique chance to hear the admiration in his voice as he described the killings. 

Hannibal didn’t bother to conceal the spring in his step or the smile on his face as he walked toward the trap door. He hummed quietly to himself, feeling entirely in a pleasant mood. Will was ethereal and breathtaking. 

Miriam Lass would do well as a gift, as well as show the FBI that Abel Gideon was far inferior to his craft.

Hannibal had made a slight change to his plans concerning her, but it would be well worth it for Will. Will deserved his best, and Miriam was ideal for what he had in mind. 


	32. Warming in the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, then back to business.

Will was drifting in and out of consciousness, his head on Hannibal’s lap as Hannibal read a book of poetry aloud to him. Hannibal was running his hand through Will’s hair and the calming touch made it all the harder for him to keep his eyes open. 

_ “How sweet I roam’d from field to field, _

_ And tasted all the summer’s pride, _

_ ‘Till I the prince of love beheld, _

_ Who in the sunny beams did glide! _

_ He shew’d me lilies for my hair, _

_ And blushing roses for my brow; _

_ He led me through his gardens fair, _

_ Where all his golden pleasures grow.” _

Hannibal’s voice wove like an enchantment around his head, soothing the stress from his muscles and the nightmares from his mind. He had pictures in his head of what Hannibal would paint with his words. 

Will, laying in a field when Hannibal stumbled upon him. Will would pluck blossoms and tuck them into the golden strands of his hair. 

“How subtle of you,” Will mumbled sleepily, earning a low chuckle from Hannibal, “you couldn’t find a poem that slips both of our names in there or something?”

Hannibal ducked his own head and pressed a kiss to Will’s lips.

“There is a poem that mentions your name in this book,” Hannibal mused, “I, however, am not so fortunate on that front.”

Will smiled, his eyes still closed as Hannibal continued to read. 

Will startled awake at the sound of his phone and he nearly fell off the couch. Hannibal caught him deftly and turned him so they were sitting together with their sides pressed together. Will linked their hands together and opened his phone with a sigh.

Hearing what Jack had to say had Will on his feet and looking for his coat in seconds.

“Where?” Will said, trying to pull his coat on with only one hand.

Hannibal stepped up behind him and helped him pull it on in silence. Will mouthed thank you to him as he felt his pulse speed up at everything Jack was telling him.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m sorry, Jack.”

Will ended the call and turned fully to Hannibal. Hannibal had a calm expression, but Will could see the tells of disappointment in his posture. 

“I’m sorry,” Will offered, stepping forward and kissing Hannibal quickly, “Duty calls. This is going to be big, at least for Jack.”

Hannibal nodded, running his hands over Will’s arms with a light smile.

“Good luck, then. I don’t suppose you are at liberty to say what might be taking you from me today,” Hannibal sounded resigned, and it made Will’s heart ache. 

“Off the record,” Will sighed, “Miriam Lass has been found. You are not allowed to tell anyone I told you that, though. Don’t wait up for me.”

The little tease had felt forced as it came out of Will’s mouth, but Hannibal smiled and nodded. 

“Always.”

\---

Will frowned at what he was seeing. It reminded him of something, but he wasn’t sure what. 

Miriam was tangled in a net. She still had her clothes, likely the ones she had been wearing when the Ripper got a hold of her. There were black, white and brown feathers in the net and in her hair, as well as spread over the ground around her. 

She was laying in the middle of a field that had scattered wild shrubs and patches of long grass, but was generally open and empty.

Something rang clear in Will’s head, telling him he knew what this was, but he couldn’t figure out why.

Jack wasn’t there. Will hadn’t seen him. This would be a blow to him, especially since Miriam seemed to have only died recently. She had been alive these past two years, and Jack hadn’t saved her.

“Beverly, can you make sure the feathers are analyzed quickly? I have a feeling they are going to be a clue,” Will said.

Beverly nodded solemnly. Apparently, Jack’s attitude was contagious. The team were treating this like a special case, because it meant so much to Jack.

\---

“The feathers are from a European species of bird called a Peewit,” Price said enthusiastically, having finally gotten back into his usual rhythm, “They have a nickname based off of the way they lead predators away from their nests. They drag one wing slightly to feign an injury.”

Will frowned.

“A nickname?” He asked.

Price nodded.

“They’re more commonly referred to as a Lapwing,” He answered.

An image burst into Will’s mind, of the black and white birds flying and swooping over the field, their wings making irregular sounds of rushing air as they flapped. 

“It’s a poem,” Will said, trying to remember, “William Blake, I think.”

Beverly was quick to get to a computer and start searching.

“It’s a poem fragment,” She corrected at last, “it was never published on its own. It’s only found in a few books of poems.”

Will nodded.

_ O lapwing thou fliest around the heath _

_ Nor seest the net that is spread beneath _

_ Why dost thou not fly among the corn fields _

_ They cannot spread nets where a harvest yields _

“It’s an attempt to get under Jack’s skin,” Will said, “He’s trying to say she was sent into the heath to hunt, and he was leaving the vulnerable crops untouched. He is saying this is Jack’s fault.”

Zeller and Price exchanged uneasy glances and Beverly set her jaw.

“Well, it’s going to work,” She said, “Jack already blames himself.”

Will nodded. Jack had blamed himself for having lost Miriam, and now he knew she hadn’t been dead all this time. He would blame himself for not continuing to look, and letting her suffer for this long.

Miriam was pale, and she likely hadn’t seen the sun once in the time she had been missing. She was thin, but clean. Her hair was longer than it had been when she was last seen, and it had been spread around her in the net.

Will still hadn’t seen Jack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I underestimate exactly how large a compilation of William Blake poems would be? Yes.   
> Did that stop me from reading the entire thing in search of poems that fit what I wanted exactly? Nope.   
> Words started to hurt after a while, and my sister made fun of me. I hope you enjoy.


	33. Cool Waters

Will was pacing nervously, and Hannibal sat back in his chair, watching.

“Something is upsetting you,” Hannibal said, trying to find out what Will was thinking about.

“Lucky happenstances aren’t typically a part of my everyday life,” Will said, gesturing agitatedly, “Coincidences don’t happen to me.”

Hannibal nodded patiently.

“Yet you feel something that has happened must be a coincidence.”

Will sighed, rubbing his face before offering a shaky nod.

“You read me a book of poems from William Blake. Then, the Chesapeake Ripper makes Miriam Lass into one of his poems. You don’t think that’s odd at all?” 

Hannibal stood and walked to Will. He was aware of Will’s unease, and that it extended to himself. He hoped to ease some of his worry.

“There is a phenomenon that occurs when one has something on their mind,” Hannibal said, placing a hand on Will’s shoulder and leading him to take a seat, “They are likely to see it in everything that they do. If one thinks about a specific car, they are more likely to notice when they are near. Their awareness does not cause them to exist, or to be there, only them noticing they are.”

Will sat down with a huff and tapped his fingers on the armrests, still full of nervous energy.

“I know that,” he said, “And I’ve thought of that too. It’s just odd. How many people do you think know that poem?” 

Hannibal raised his eyebrows and sat in his own chair. He steepled his fingers and thought about it.

“I suppose anyone who has a copy of one of the books it was published in, or if they happened to come across it on the internet. It is not as obscure as you might think. It is certainly not one of his most popular poems, but it is not unknown in the world.”

Will nodded, rolling his shoulders and looking around the office. 

“Do coincidences often happen to you, Doctor Lecter?” He asked.

Hannibal hummed. 

“I do not consider my circumstances to be entirely out of my control. I believe that anything that may seem coincidental has been affected by my actions, whether directly or indirectly.”

Will closed his eyes and nodded. 

“I figured you would have something like that to say about it. I just can’t get it out of my head. It’s like I’m spinning in circles, and the one thing I always see as I come back around is this coincidence. It’s always where my eyes land.”

Hannibal stood and walked to Will. He crouched down in front of him and took his hands, their temperatures equalized. He rubbed his thumbs over the back of Will’s hands, and Will opened his eyes to look at him with a pained expression.

“These mirrors in your mind do not have to reflect the worst of others, Will. They can reflect the best of yourself instead. These horrors that plague you need not cause you such distress. I am here to help you in any way you need.”

Will leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Hannibal’s. He breathed slowly, and Hannibal could feel his worry. There was something more that he wasn’t saying, but it was bothering him.

“What would you do to help me?” Will asked, his voice shaking slightly.

Hannibal tangled their fingers together like he knew Will liked. Will liked to feel like they were tethered together, and anchored.

“Anything,” He answered honestly.

Will laughed, but it was quiet and desperate.

\---

Hannibal knew Will was close to epiphany. He awaited it more anxiously than he had allowed himself to anticipate anything in years. Despite everything he knew, and was capable of, he could not know for certain what Will would do when he figured it all out. 

The darkness in Will’s mind shone like ebony, and Hannibal wanted worked into a masterpiece. 

Hannibal let his fingers tap over the keys of his piano, letting out a soft tune, and he smiled. 

Whatever the outcome, he was ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a really short chapter, but I'm hitting a bit of a writer's block. I know what I want to have happen, but words are a struggle, so just be patient. I promise the next chapter will be longer.


	34. Play With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A family picnic

Something wasn’t adding up, but Will couldn’t figure out what or why. He wanted to ask Hannibal outright what all of this meant, but everything in him told him he needed to figure it out himself. Asking Hannibal would be surrendering control, and Will just wasn’t sure that was something he could do right now.

The day at the park had been Hannibal’s idea, and Will felt like it was more with himself and Abigail in mind than Hannibal. Hannibal didn’t seem the outdoors type, though Will had never really asked him.

Abigail ran around with the dogs and Will watched as Hannibal set out the dishes of food he had prepared.

Abigail ran like a deer, with long, graceful strides, and soft steps. She grinned as her hair flew out of her face with the wind, and the dogs were adoring her. She didn’t mind playing with them, rolling around in the grass and letting them jump on her and lick her face. She laughed and smiled, and it made Will’s heart feel full. He had never seen her so happy, and she really deserved it.

When Hannibal was done setting out the food, Will called them all back. Hannibal had even brought some sausages for the dogs, so they wouldn’t try to eat their food. Abigail was still grinning, her hair blown out of her face and exposing her freckles.

Will had no idea what kind of food Hannibal had made. He just ate it in silence, but Abigail asked. 

Hannibal seemed pleased that she was curious, and they had a discussion about cooking, and the types of foods Hannibal wanted to make for her in the future. Will just smiled and watched, petting his dogs when they wandered past. 

Abigail turned to Will, then, her bright eyes sharp and happy.

“So, what do you do, in your free time?” She asked, putting another bite into her mouth.

Will cleared his throat nervously. 

“I make fishing lures, and I fish,” he said, feeling like it sounded boring that way, but not knowing how else to say it.

Abigail nodded.

“Hannibal told me you fish. He said fly fishing? He also said you might want to take me sometime? I think that would be fun.”

Will blinked, glancing to a smiling Hannibal before nodding.

“Yeah. As long as you want to. I even got some extra equipment, so if you want to learn how to tie lures, I could help you out with that.”

Abigail grinned.

“That sounds amazing. I would love to get out more. Being stuck in the hospital is so boring. There’s nothing to do there,” she said.

Will smiled and nodded. He hadn’t really expected Abigail to be that excited about fishing, but he supposed anything was better than sitting in a blank room all day.

Will felt his hands grow cold, and he frowned. He hadn’t really thought about telling Abigail they were linked. He hadn’t told Alana yet, but things were different with Abigail. Abigail might not feel comfortable around them when she found out. She might tell Alana, which could be a real problem for them.

Hannibal reached out and took Will’s hand in his, drawing Wills eyes up to meet his gaze. 

“There is no need to worry, Will. Abigail will not think any less of either of us,” he said. His tone was slightly teasing, and it made Will’s face grow warm.

“Oh my gosh. Are you two linked?” Abigail said, not sounding exactly excited or happy, but not upset either.

Will nodded slowly, trying to figure out what her reaction meant. Hannibal turned to her, keeping their hands linked between them.

“Will is hesitant to have anyone know, because it might complicate things,” Hannibal explained, “Though I think you are someone we can trust a secret to.”

There was a tone in Hannibal’s voice, like he was referring to something Abigail would understand. Will watched Abigail, and she nodded, apparently knowing what Hannibal was saying. If they shared a secret, Will wondered why he hadn’t been told. If it was Hannibal’s secret to tell, he would have been, so it must be something about Abigail. Will wondered.

“How long have you guys known?” Abigail asked, gesturing vaguely, “About this.”

Hannibal huffed a quiet laugh. He squeezed Will’s hand gently in reassurance before he answered.

“I found out the same day your father died,” he said. 

Abigail nodded. Then, she turned to Will and raised an eyebrow.

“Sounds like you didn’t figure it out at the same time,” she noted.

Will shrugged sheepishly.

“I only realized a little while before you woke up,” he explained, feeling his face grow warm again, “I wasn’t really sure before that.”

Abigail raised both her eyebrows at that, but nodded. 

“Sounds like an interesting story,” she said, “You’ll have to tell me sometime.”

The fact that she didn’t insist on hearing it just then felt like a weight off of Will’s chest, and he sighed in relief. He felt his shoulders relax, and Hannibal rubbed his thumb over Will’s hand gently as he tended to do. 

Winston laid down and plopped his head into Will’s lap, making Will smile and reclaim his hand so he could scratch him between the ears. 

\---

“You and Abigail have a secret,” Will stated, unpacking the empty lunch dishes and stacking them next to the sink.

Hannibal passed behind him, and Will knew the brush of his shoulder against Will's back was intentional. He was always doing things like that.

“We do,” Hannibal agreed, “and though I hate to keep anything from you, it is not my secret to divulge.”

Will considered this. There were a few things Abigail might have that she doesn't want people to know, but what would Hannibal know? Would she have told Hannibal if she had helped her father kill? She might have, but Will wanted to believe Hannibal would have told him, if not Jack, were that the case.

When it hit him, Will couldn't believe he hadn't thought about it before.

“She killed Nicholas Boyle,” Will said, his voice low. 

He turned to face Hannibal, who returned his gaze with not guilt, but adoration.

“I will not insult you by lying. I doubt Abigail would begrudge you a truthful answer when you were clever enough to piece it out. She did.”

Will closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“And you know this, because you were there that night. You helped her clean up, and I assume you hid the body. What about Alana?”

Hannibal stepped closer, his steps soft on the kitchen floor.

“She was hit on the head, and is not aware of anything that transpired. Abigail did not act in cold blood, Will.”

Will shook his head.

“Of course not. She's smarter than that. I just wish-”

Will didn't dare say what he wished. He wished he had been there. He wished he was the one to kill Nicholas, to protect Abigail. He would do anything to protect his family.

The thought of family made Will open his eyes and stare at Hannibal. Hannibal watched him curiously, just within reach.

“Jack would have hanged her for her fathers crimes,” Will said solemnly, “self preservation is a privilege for those who are beyond suspicion. You protected her.”

Hannibal nodded. 

“She was not sure you would feel the same way if you knew what had happened,” Hannibal explained, “and I did not wish to go against her.”

Will nodded. He stepped forward and Hannibal understood it was a cue to pull him into an embrace. Will pressed his forehead against Hannibal's shoulder, and Hannibal rested his chin on Will's head.

“Remarkable man,” Hannibal whispered, “I cannot predict what your mind is capable of.”

Will clutched at the fabric at Hannibal's sides, suddenly very glad Hannibal was wearing a sweater and not his usual three piece suit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I didn't intend for this chapter to be so soft, but I can't imagine any of you will complain.


	35. Frostbite

Will had realized what they had been hiding with so little information. It made Hannibal wonder about his most recent excursions. He would only need to give Will a small nudge, and see what the realization brought out in him. 

Will was already so close to knowing. It was possible the only thing holding him back at this point was his own denial. 

Will was not a slave to his denial like others were, he needed more, but nothing drastic. 

Speaking of those who were slaves to their own denial, Franklyn was trying his patience with stories of his friend.

“Oh, I know he's not my link, of course. He's also a cold one, but that doesn't always stop people. We might never meet our actual links, so I don't see any reason to wait around for them. I'm sure you agree with me, Doctor Lecter,” Franklyn rambled.

Hannibal hummed. How different his life would be if he had never met Will Graham.

“My opinion has little to do with it, Franklyn. It should be a matter of whether or not Tobias agrees.”

Franklyn nodded enthusiastically. 

“Oh, of course. I try talking to him about it, but he avoids the topic of links. I think he might have bad memories associated with it. Do you think I should ask him about it?” 

Hannibal didn't care in the slightest.

“What do you want to do, Franklyn?”

Franklyn seemed surprised by the question, despite the fact that this was a turn their sessions often took. He leaned back in his chair, thinking about it.

“I want to wait for a bit, at least. He doesn't seem to be in his right mind at the moment. He has been saying some really morbid things. He might be going through something right now.”

Hannibal nodded. 

\---

Will had told Hannibal about the scene they had found. Hannibal had heard all about the man from the orchestra, how his vocal chords had been exposed and played like a cello. The thermostat of the building had been tampered with, making it cold enough that the agents had been able to see their breath when they went in. 

Hannibal knew who had done it, and he knew it was only a matter of time before Will found him. Franklyn might even turn Tobias in himself. 

Hannibal was pulled from his thoughts by the ringing of his phone. It was Jack, of course.

“Hello, Jack.”

“I need you to come in right now. It's about Will. When can I expect you?”

Hannibal was on his feet and out the door.

“I'm on my way. Might I ask what the matter is?” He asked, praying nothing had happened to him.

“I'll fill you in when you get here. It's better in person.”

Hannibal wasn't sure it was better to make him worry on the drive, but he didn't want to be on the phone in the car, so he decided it would have to wait. He pushed the speed limit on his way to Quantico. If any harm had come to Will, there would be hell to pay.

Jack met him at the door and led him down a hallway he was not familiar with. 

“You probably know about the body we found of that man from the city orchestra,” Jack said, and Hannibal nodded, “well, the killer wasn't too careful about leaving evidence. The only problem is that all the evidence points at Will. We found some of his hairs, footprints from his hiking boots, and a bit of fabric from one of his shirts. After we searched his house, you won't believe what we found there.”

Hannibal understood what was being said, but he was having a hard time wrapping his head around why Tobias would have tried to frame Will.

“We found a knife with blood on it, the boots that left the footprints, and a stretch of intestines that had been taken from the body. Did you have any idea Will was capable of this?”

Hannibal stopped in his tracks, making Jack stop and turn to him with a confused expression.

“Forgive my bluntness, Jack, but Will did not kill that man. If he were to kill someone, do you think so poorly of his intelligence to think he would leave so much clear evidence?”

Jack shook his head, but didn't meet Hannibal's gaze again.

“I think Will is smarter than that, but it's not my job to give opinions. It's my job to interpret evidence. Right now, the evidence points at him. I can't ignore the evidence.”

Hannibal took a steadying breath and nodded. 

“Then I assume Will is in being held here.”

Jack nodded and continued on down the hall. Hannibal was ushered into a stark grey room, furnished with nothing but a metal table and two matching chairs. Will was sitting in one of the chairs, dressed in an orange jumpsuit and cuffed to the table. He stared at the table with a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Will,” Hannibal said, trying to keep his voice steady. 

Will looked up, and he set his jaw. The emotions Hannibal could see in his face felt like a stab in the chest. Will felt betrayed, and angry, and it was directed at Hannibal. He understood.

He knew.

Tobias would pay for this. He had taken this from Hannibal, and he would regret it before he died, which Hannibal would make sure wasn't too soon.

“Doctor Lecter,” Will replied, snapping his gaze back to the table where his hands were cuffed.

Hannibal sighed and sat across from him, feeling the heat in his shoulders, but not risking a touch at that time.

“You did not kill that man,” Hannibal stated.

Will scoffed.

“No. I didn't.”

“What motivation might a killer have to frame you?” Hannibal prodded.

Will closed his eyes and ground his teeth together. His hands were balled into tight fists and they trembled with the anger Hannibal knew he felt.

“That kill was a gift for the Ripper,” Will said, “he wanted to show them how well he plays. I suppose he thought to knock out two birds with one stone and take me out of the picture as well. I have been trying to catch the Ripper, after all. A gesture of good will, perhaps.”

That explained it. Tobias wanted to get Will out of the way, and try to impress him at the same time. He wasn't interested in Franklyn because he was fixated on Hannibal. He had told Franklyn all those morbid things so he would tell Hannibal about them.

“The truth will be made known,” Hannibal promised, having to repress an angry snarl, “and you will be released. You do not belong behind bars.”

Will huffed, but his face betrayed his inner turmoil. He knew he was innocent, but the rest of what he knew made him hesitant to accept help from Hannibal.

“I don't want you to visit me again,” Will said, “I'm going to be put under Doctor Chilton’s care. And I don't want you to come. I don't want to see you again.”

With that, Jack came in and collected Hannibal, who had to act professionally unconcerned, when he ached for what might have been. Will would be escorted to the hospital, and he would refuse to see Hannibal from that point on. 

“Hannibal!” Alana called, her heels clicking down the hall. She ran up and buried her head in his chest.

After a moment of shock, Hannibal folded her into a hug. She sobbed into his chest, and everything about it felt wrong. He didn't want to be this close to her. He stroked her hair to soothe her, but she wasn't Will. 

“I told Jack not to let him get too close,” Alana cried, “do you think this is because of his condition?”

Hannibal wanted to grimace. Everyone treated Will like some broke puppet, but he never was. He was so much better.

“If Will did this, it would not be his own fault,” Hannibal replied, hating every word, “he allows killers into his mind, Alana.”

“Why is he angry with you?” Alana sniffed, looking up at him with wide eyes that were not Will's.

Hannibal shushed her gently, wanting nothing more than to be snapping each and every bone in Tobias Budge’s body, but he was here.

“I am his psychiatrist, and his friend. If he did this, then he knows I have failed him. I should have better protected him.”

Alana did not try to say Will was innocent. Nor did she try to comfort Hannibal. She laid her cheek against his chest and whispered.

“We all should have.”


	36. Fever Dream

_ Dearest Will, _

_ That you have forced me to resort to such archaic methods of communication with you is terribly inconvenient.  _

_ I realize you are not likely to believe me again so soon, but you must have noticed that your temperature has become even more extreme as we have spent time apart. I was not lying to you when I told you that would be a side effect of our separation. I suppose you believed that it was a lie, as you are justifiably upset with me, but it was not.  _

_ Are you going to put yourself through Hell, only to make me suffer? _

_ I could visit you if you would allow it, and we could save each other from the pain. You and I need each other, and you know so.  _

_ I know you will not show this to Doctor Chilton, though of course you are entirely capable of it. I am always able to contact you, and making it more difficult for me will not help either of our situations.  _

_ I wish you a quick release, as I am convinced of your innocence. _

_ Yours, _

_ Hannibal _

Will cursed aloud, leaning his head against the cell wall.

He damn well wasn’t going to show the letter to anyone, but he hated Hannibal for being right about it. This was his, and it was meant only for his eyes. Chilton would never have the opportunity to soil it with his eager gaze.

Will had no idea how Hannibal had gotten the letter into his cell, and onto his bed no less, but it was enough to convince him that Hannibal was telling the truth. He would always find a way.

Will glanced back down at the paper, growing damp in his sweaty grip. Sweat dripped from his brow and he knew his hair was plastered to his head as his clothes were. 

Every moment he spent in here, he grew more feverish, to the point where he could almost feel his brain baking in his skull. The only solace he had was that he knew Hannibal must feel like he was making a trek across the arctic tundra without a coat. Will hoped he was losing the feeling in his fingers, though the tidy scrawl of the letter gave him little confirmation for such.

The tray of food slid in, and Will made no move to acknowledge it.

The orderly paused at the bars, as he usually did, and watched Will. He was curious, and Will was waiting for him to give away why. He was itching to talk to Will, and Will had all the time in the world to wait for him to give into his urge.

The man walked away, and Will closed his eyes with a deep breath. There were walls in his mind palace that came crashing down around him, but others that he was forced to take apart brick by brick. 

There was a chapel at the center, that Hannibal had unknowingly built. They had spoken at length about his own mind palace, and Will had been able to see the visions he described. This chapel had meant so much to him, Will had heard it in his voice as Hannibal spoke. 

Will pried up the tiles from the floor, making his hands bleed from the effort. He knew no one would see the work he did, but he didn't want Hannibal to have anything in his head. If he couldn't stop Hannibal, the least he could do was destroy his influence over himself.

Saltwater pooled around his feet, sloshing at his work boots and splashing into the cuts on his hands. Will stood from his crouch and turned, watching the water swirl in waves outside the door of the chapel. The strong currents created fighting and churning kaleidoscopes of refracted sunlight through the water. 

As Will stood, watching the torrent outside the doors, an invisible barrier dissipated and the tidal wave of see water rushed forward. Will didn’t move as the water caught his clothes and rose up past his shoulders. His body stood firm against the onslaught and he felt the water swirl and tousle his hair. He breathed the water in, and his body did not reject it. His body grew cold and he closed his eyes.

“I’m sure Doctor Chilton would not be happy to find that someone has been managing to contact you from the outside without his knowing.”

Will stared at the wall across from him, not moving to acknowledge the orderly. His eyes flicked down to the wet paper in his hands, and he slowly pulled it apart with his fingertips. The wet paper made only soft sounds at the tearing, that only Will could hear. 

“I’m sure the fact that you are saying that means you have turned off his recording devices,” Will replied.

A small huff of laughter was followed by the shuffle of feet.

“What he doesn’t know won't kill him.”

Will wanted to laugh at that. That was an attitude that had killed enough people for him to know it was flawed. Not that he cared all that much just then. He stood and walked forward, keeping his expression uninterested and not meeting the boy's eyes.

“What is it that you don’t know?” Will wondered, “that you think I can help you with?”

He looked over the orderly, then. He was standing very close to the bars, his hands behind his back like he was trying to seem as a military as he could. He had a lopsided smile dimpling his cheeks and making him look boyish.

“I know exactly what I want to know. What I want is to do something for you. What is it you want?”

Will huffed a laugh, tipping his head back and staring at the ceiling. 

“Has the person leaving me notes told you the exact nature of our relationship?”

The boy tipped his head in Will’s periphery.

“I don’t know anything about that,” he said.

Will nodded.

“Have you met your link yet,” Will began, thinking back, “Matthew?”

Matthew was silent for a moment.

“I do not have a soulmate anymore, Agent Graham, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Will tapped his fingers absently on his leg.

“You had one. They died. An accident. I’m sorry for that. But I have a problem that I hope you will forgive me if I say is worse than what you have gone through,” Will said, standing and walking to the bars, “I’ll tell you with the knowledge that you will not tell anyone else. I can promise you will regret it if you do.”

Will’s tone had grown quiet and serious. He was only a foot away from Matthew then, separated only by the bars. He watched Matthew’s pupils blow wide and he nodded.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised.

Will smiled, but he didn’t feel it.

“My soulmate is the Chesapeake Ripper,” he confided, “and I can’t bring myself to betray them. I am here because someone else wanted what I have, and they decided to take it by force. My therapist knew this about me, which is why he feels obligated to continue communicating with me despite my incarceration, and my refusal to speak with him.”

Matthew was smiling, with wonder glittering in his eyes. He looked up at Will like he was a burning bush bringing him news of his chosen nature.

“I don’t care if you let him bring me letters. I don’t want to give him any reason to worry more than he already is. I just want to be able to send him letters in return until I get out of here. And I want out of here.”

Matthew nodded, and Will knew he understood. Will walked back and sat on his bed again.

“Now, if you don’t mind. I have some mental deconstruction to do.”


	37. Cold Tone

“Tobias, I would regret destroying an artist like yourself, except that you have acted unforgivably.”

The man, who was completely immobilized, only blinked up at Hannibal from the table.

“Oh, don’t worry. No one would hear you if you were to call out. I will not punish you for answering me,” Hannibal assured, “Though I will not be pleased if you are rude or terribly loud.”

Tobias wet his lips.

“I was going to kill you,” Tobias said, sounding defeated rather than afraid.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at him, working all the while. He was selecting the tools he would use.

“What stopped you?”

Tobias closed his eyes, possibly to keep from seeing what Hannibal was doing.

“I followed you. Out of town. Down a lonely road.”

Hannibal frowned. 

“That was reckless of you Tobias. I did not have plans to harm you until you harmed Will Graham. How did you find out about him?”

Tobias opened his eyes, then.

“You are not as careful as you used to be. Not when it comes to Will Graham. I followed you again, after my initial discovery, and you can guess where I followed you to. Agent Graham is very careless, never locking his back door. I suppose it has to do with all those mutts he keeps around.”

Hannibal hummed, 

“You would do well to refrain from insulting the both of us, being in the position that you are. If you had implicated me in the crime you committed, I would not be half as angry as I am. I do not often become angry, and revenge has never been a motivation for me. I have been changed since meeting Will Graham, and I cannot even fully predict myself anymore.”

Tobias seemed to be slowly realizing just how badly he had done in his attempt. 

“I don’t put much stock in soul links,” he said.

“No, I imagine you do not. Franklyn guessed as much as well, though he is far from as clever as you.”

Tobias swallowed.

“I thought you would be of a similar mind to me. You never cared about the soulmates of those you dispatched. Agent Graham was bound to find you out and betray you eventually. Now, no one will believe him. I did you a favor.”

Hannibal shook his head lightly, leaning over the man. 

“You expect me to be grateful to you,” Hannibal said, knowing full well he sounded angry, “unfortunately for all of us, you were misinformed. Will Graham is not capable of betraying me, even now that you have. There is something far more profound tethering us together than any typical temperature link. As for the soulmates of those I have killed, I have done them a service. None can be as fulfilled by their soulmate as I am by Will Graham, and you have denied me that completion for however long our separation lasts. I am not forgiving in nature.”

Tobias began to tremble, and Hannibal relished the sight of someone who had been so unfeeling and stoic, experiencing true fear for the first time. His black eyes stared up and Hannibal smiled.

“Yes, you have good reason to be frightened. I have no intention of making anything quick, or painless for you. Every day I am without Will Graham, you will suffer as much as I.”

\---

_ Hannibal, _

_ If it’s so painful for you, then why don’t you just come see me? We both know you could find a way, if you wanted. I was never really in control. _

The note had surprised Hannibal when Matthew had slipped it into his hand in in return for the letter he would see to Will. The contents of the note burned like acid on his eyelids, and he had to take a deep breath to keep from cursing himself.

Will might have been ready to receive him, but Tobias stole the moment from them both, and it could never be retrieved. 

Hannibal only had a few minutes to prepare for his session with Franklyn, and he was not particularly enthused at the prospect of consoling him over his lost love. Tobias’ absence had surely been noticed by now, especially by Franklyn.

Hannibal tucked the letter into his pocket and straightened his stacks of books and notes. He made sure the chairs were far enough apart the Franklyn would not have the opportunity to touch him again. 

And then it was time, and Hannibal steeled himself for the unfortunate obligation that he had. 

Franklyn looked as if he had been crying, and he smelled like it. He was a bit more rumpled than he would usually allow himself to look, and his smile was weak. He didn’t even manage to maintain eye contact as he took his seat.

“You seem distressed,” Hannibal remarked, taking his own seat.

Franklyn nodded miserably.

“Tobias is missing. I tried to tell the police, but they told me because he’s an adult and he can leave if he wants to. I don’t know why he would want to leave. Everything was good, I mean, except for his morbid comments. Do you think I should have reported him? I know you do. You lost respect for me, I know it.”

Hannibal tipped his head, clasping his hands in his lap. Franklyn was nearing hysterical. He rarely ever rambled like that without giving Hannibal a chance to speak in between his thoughts.

“I think you are making an assumption about how I perceive you, based on your own fears,” Hannibal said, “I would guess you have done everything you can to contact Tobias since he went missing. Have you been to his home, or his work?”

Franklyn rubbed his hands together nervously, staring down at Hannibal’s shoes rather than up to his eyes.

“I didn’t find him in either place. His shop is closed up, and his house is locked tight as well. I don’t have keys. He didn’t tell me he was going anywhere, so I can’t imagine he just decided to up and leave.”

Hannibal hummed.

“Perhaps it was some emergency that required his immediate attention, and he simply did not have the time.”

Franklyn nodded. He had thought of that.

“I’m kind of glad I didn’t report him, since they found the guy who really killed that trombonist. I would have only made him angry with me for no reason. I know I probably should have, just because I really was concerned, but I’m glad I didn’t.”

Hannibal bit his tongue to keep himself from saying something rude. Franklyn had not actually earned his ire, despite how much of it he had at the time.

“I’m pleased to hear you are comforted by that,” he said, trying to keep his voice from betraying his seething anger, “You are looking better now than you did when the session began, already.”

Franklyn actually met his eyes, then, and smiled.

“I feel better,” he agreed, “I guess that’s just how good you are. You really are a great psychiatrist.”

Hannibal smiled slightly in return, deciding not to give him the referral he had chosen just yet. It would seem rude to time it just so. 


	38. Fevered Sweetness

“Will, how are you doing?” 

Beverly seemed more concerned than she really ought to be, and she was the only person from the team to visit him since Jack had left him in the care of Doctor Chilton. Will had actually been happy to see her, which had surprised him.

“I’m doing as well as can be expected,” he answered, betrayed by the sweat trickling down his face and neck. He knew he looked terrible.

Beverly was predictably unconvinced.

“I asked to get this room because it’s the only one Chilton really can’t record,” Beverly explained.

Will nodded. He hadn’t noticed her bring a folder in, but he supposed she might have one in her bag. That would explain why she would want privacy for their conversation. He steeled himself for the sight of some crime scene photos.

“I want to talk to you about Hannibal,” Beverly continued, leaving Will frozen and gawking, “I know he’s your link, and I know you haven’t been letting him see you.”

Will gritted his teeth, trying not to show his anger.

“Did he tell you?” Will asked.

It would have made sense for Hannibal to betray him once more, giving himself more leverage in the case of something like this happening. 

Beverly shook her head, furrowing her brow with more concern.

“No. I guessed, and he told me not to tell anyone. You were doing so much better, Will. You were healthy, and happy, and it was because of him. Did you two have a fight? I need to know what is going on with you two.”

Will relaxed back into his seat and tapped his fingers absently on the table he was cuffed to.

“I really don’t think you do, Beverly,” Will said, feeling a bit bad for being so rude to her, but feeling defensive nonetheless, “What is happening will not concern you, unless you try to cause a problem, and I sincerely hope you don’t.”

Beverly folded her arms stubbornly.

“Look at yourself,” she shot back, “You look terrible. I don’t know what’s up with your weird link, but you look like you are dying. Hannibal doesn’t look much better.”

Will huffed.

At least he knew Hannibal was feeling this too.

“Hannibal is the one you should be asking. He’s the one making the decisions here. He could fix this, I bet. He’s letting us both suffer.”

Beverly shook her head.

“Will, could you do yourself a favor and let him come see you? Talk to him? Do you both a favor. At least think about it.”

Will closed his eyes and breathed in. The walls of the chapel were only a meter tall at this point, and crumbling in the breeze that blew through his mind. 

“I’ll think about it,” he conceded.

Beverly was understandably unconvinced, and she raised her eyebrows to make sure he knew so before she nodded. 

“It really is good to see you,” Will said, his tone growing gentler, “Everyone else seems to feel too guilty to come by.”

Beverly furrowed her brow in sympathy.

“We’re working as hard as we can to figure out why you’re in here, so we can get you out,” She said, “It’s going to be painful for some of us to see you in here while we don’t understand what’s going on.”

Will nodded. That was why Alana hadn’t come by yet, and why Jack wasn’t coming by. Jack had other reasons too, but the main one was his own guilt. Zeller and Price were not close to Will, in any sense, so they would feel the best they could do was try to prove his innocence, though Zeller would be starting to doubt him by now. 

“I’m guessing Jack isn’t going to be asking for my help again any time soon,” Will said, not actually feeling too upset about it, but knowing he was losing Jack’s trust by being in here.

Beverly shrugged.

“He definitely won’t be, but if we have something serious, I might bring you a file. It’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

Will nodded.

\---

Better to ask forgiveness than permission. 

Will thought about that, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling of his cell. 

Hannibal had not asked him for forgiveness. Not in so many words. Will wondered if he had meant to ask forgiveness rather than permission, in his own way. 

Whatever his intention, it didn’t really matter, because they were here now. Will was in a prison for crazy people, and his soulmate was out there wreaking havoc on whoever had put him in here. 

There was a sense of satisfaction, deep in Will’s chest, at the thought of Hannibal seeking revenge on his behalf. Will decided it was best to confront these feelings while he was in no danger of being manipulated by Hannibal. He was almost beyond his reach, here, and that was the best he was going to get.

Abigail.

What must Abigail think of him now?

They had been doing fine. They had been alright. They were almost like a family. Something so foreign to Will for all those years, and they had almost had it. He hadn’t even admitted to himself that family was something he wanted, until they had it. Now it was gone, and Abigail might never be able to be part of it again.

What was Will going to do about Abigail?

The tray of food slid into the cell, and Will cast a glance to Matthew, who nodded in return. 

As the footsteps retreated down the hall, Will picked up the tray and slid his fingers along the bottom. He traced the outline of the envelope, thinking, for a moment before he plucked it off and opened it.

_ Dearest Will, _

_ If you wish for me to come to you, all you need do is ask. I will not come to you unless I am sure I will be welcome in that place. It would do neither of us any good for me to stand outside your cell without the ability to relieve us of this suffering. I am unconvinced you would allow me that at this time. If you truly wish for all of this to stop, simply allow me to visit you. _

_ You are as in control as you allow yourself to be, and I see you are taking all you can. I will respect your decisions to be left alone, though I will let you know I am anxious to see you again. _

_ Yours,  _

_ Hannibal _

Hannibal would respect Will’s choice to be left alone, except for sending him letters nearly every day and try to convince him to change his mind. 

Will dropped the paper onto the bed next to him as he slowly chewed through the less than par food he had been given. Saltwater waves lapped at the edges of his mind, scattering the sandy remains of the chapel that had once been there. Even the foundations of the room were eroded by the tide. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day. <3  
> Too bad Will and Hannibal aren't quite ready to be a couple at the moment here. Maybe later.


	39. In the Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has to accept that people other than Will exist

Hannibal walked into the study carrying the tray of small items of food. Abigail was sitting at her desk as he had left her, but she stared out of the window with a furrowed brow and deep frown.

Hannibal set the tray down on a side table nearby and walked up to her. She had been tying a lure, and the desk was scattered with the materials. Her work space was far less organized than Will’s had been, but she took great pride in the tools he had given her. She took care of them like they were more important than anything else.

“Troubled?” Hannibal asked, admiring the lure she was working on.

Abigail sighed, running a finger over one of the feathers lying on the desk. 

“Why won’t Will let you see him?” she asked, keeping her gaze down to avoid meeting Hannibal’s eyes.

Hannibal hummed unhappily, taking a seat near where Abigail sat. He rubbed his hands together to try to regain some heat in his fingers.

“He is upset with me. He is as stubborn as anyone I have met, and nothing I can say will change his mind right now. I can only hope he will be released soon so that I may be able to regain his trust.”

Abigail tapped her fingers nervously on the desk. Hannibal wondered if she had picked that up from the time she had spent around Will. 

“He found out about Nick, didn’t he?” She asked, turning her head and meeting Hannibal’s gaze for the first time during the conversation.

Hannibal nodded.

“In his defense, he is a very clever man. He recognized the signs of a secret between us and realized what we must be hiding.”

Abigail swallowed, looking back down to the lure she had been working on. A lock of her hair fell in front of her face and her hand trembled slightly as she tucked it back behind her ear.

“That’s why he’s mad at you, isn’t it? He’s upset that you lied to him. It’s my fault.”

Hannibal shook his head.

“It is not your fault, Abigail. I made the decision to lie for you. He understands why you worried about telling him. You should not worry yourself about why Will is doing what he is.”

Doubt swam in Abigail's features and the tapping of her fingers stuttered erratically. 

“Can I go see him?” She asked. Her voice was quiet and unsure.

Hannibal hummed in thought. She could help him soften Will’s stubbornness, but he might have to go behind Alana's back to get her in. There was also a probability that Will would refuse to see her, or that seeing her would only make him more angry with Hannibal.

“Let's talk with Alana about it,” Hannibal concluded. 

Abigail nodded, resigned. She turned back to the lure and carefully selected another feather for it. 

The secret that now belonged to Hannibal and Will might drive a distance between Abigail and Will. Hannibal was doing nothing to relieve that, letting Abigail believe it was her own secret that created the discomfort. Hannibal would be the only person Will could turn to with all of his worries. He had to make Will as alone without Hannibal as Hannibal was without Will.

\---

“Hannibal, I really don't know how to express how bad anything we do now could be for Abigail. We’re really backed into a corner here.”

Hannibal nodded at Alana’s words. He knew she would see it that way, which is why he was willing to let her be the defining factor for his decision. 

“Perhaps we could ask Will if he would see her, and if not then tell her it would not be good for her,” Hannibal suggested, taking a sip of his wine.

Alana sipped from her beer and mulled over the taste. Her bright red lipstick left soft stains on the lip of the glass. 

“And if he says yes?” She asked.

“Then we have another set of variables to work with,” Hannibal replied, “we might ask her if she truly wants to, or we may discuss with her the potential risks of it. Abigail is her own person, Alana.”

Alana nodded, sighing lightly.

“But she isn’t in the right place for this kind of thing. I wish she didn’t have to worry about this. I wish Will wasn’t in prison.”

Hannibal nodded. 

“I think there are few people who wish that more than I,” he admitted. 

It was always a good idea to show tenderness when speaking with Alana. She was a soft and gentle soul who wanted to see the best in those around her. 

Alana glanced at Hannibal with a look full of sympathy.

“You really are more his friend than his psychiatrist, aren’t you?” she asked.

Hannibal took a long sip of his wine to avoid answering.

“He has really gotten so much better since he started talking with you. I hope everything can go back to normal when he gets out. I know he’s innocent. I know he didn’t kill that man.”

Hannibal nodded. 

In truth, there were only a few people who could honestly say they knew for certain that Will had not killed the trombonist, but claiming so would put them in a tight spot to prove it. 

“I’ll talk to Will,” Alana promised, “and I’ll ask him if Abigail can see him. I honestly don’t know what I want him to say, though.”

Hannibal smiled sadly.

“Then the outcome is entirely up to Will,” He said, knowing the words were for more than just this conversation. 

Will could choose to destroy everything Hannibal had built, and Hannibal would let him. 


	40. Heated Gaze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will starts to get somewhere

“Hello Alana,” Will said, watching from his periphery as she sat in the chair opposite him.

Alana pressed her lips together, clearly not happy to be there, or to see Will there.

“Hello Will.”

She did not sound angry, or upset really, but she clearly had something on her mind. He didn’t think she was quite ready to be there as his friend yet. She had to have another reason to come.

“I don’t suppose you came to tell me I’m free to go,” Will joked, knowing his humor was dry and flat. He tried to seem as comfortable as possible, and luckily he felt relatively cold just then. No sweat to betray his condition.

Alana tried to smile, but it fell short.

“I’m here to talk to you about Abigail,” she said.

Her tone was the professionally polite one she had used for years. She was distancing herself from the situation.

Will frowned, furrowing his brow. If Hannibal had done anything to Abigail, or if he was going to do something to keep Will from helping her, there would be a reckoning.

“Is there something wrong? Is Abigail okay?” Will asked, trying not to sound panicked.

Alana gave him a sympathetic look, clasping her hands together on top of the table.

“She’s understandably a bit confused. She doesn’t know how to feel about all of this.”

Will huffed a laugh.

“Does anyone? I haven’t heard one person who is sure how they feel about what has been going on recently. She’ll be alright. She’s resilient.”

Alana sighed softly. She must be getting to the point of the visit.

“Are you going to let her visit you in here?” She asked, watching Will for a reaction.

Will didn’t give her one right away. He didn’t even blink or flinch at her words, keeping his breathing even and his gaze fixed on her hands.

“Has she asked to see me?”

Alana nodded.

“I don’t know if it would be good for either of you, but it might. It could either be really damaging for one or both of you, or it could benefit you both. I don’t know what state of mind she’s in right now. I need to know if you will allow it.”

Will looked up and stared at Alana’s lips as she formed the words. He didn’t make eye contact, but it was closer, and she would recognize it.

“What do you want me to say, Alana?” he asked.

Alana seemed surprised. She hesitated before she answered quietly.

“I don’t know,” She answered, her eyes lowering to the table, “Like I said, it could be good or bad. I told Hannibal we would let you make your decision, and then talk to Abigail about hers.”

Will tensed at the mention of Hannibal. 

Of course, Hannibal was still spending time with Abigail. No one knew they were linked, and for all they knew Hannibal and Will were both independently invested in Abigail’s well being. For some reason, the realization stung.

“If she wants to come see me, I will let her. I do have some conditions, though.”

Alana seemed surprised, but nodded carefully.

“I want a room that Chilton can’t record. He’s too nosy for me. I also want it to be Abigail’s choice to come here. She is not obligated to do anything. If you think it would be bad for her, then tell her I don’t want her to see me like this. I only want you to consider what is best for her. Forget about me.”

Alana looked like she was on the verge of tears.

“Will. I know you didn’t kill anyone. I want you out of here,” she said, choking on a sob she refused to let escape, “You don’t belong here.”

Will offered her only a tired smile.

“I know. If justice ever makes its way round to me, then I’ll be out. You might not think it, but I’m resilient too. Don’t worry about me. Just help from out there where you can.”

Alana nodded, sniffing a bit.

“Thank you, Will.”

Once Alana was gone, Will only had to wait a minute before he was escorted back to his cell. Matthew never fastened the cuffs very tight, and Will would have been able to slip out if his goal was to escape. He also only kept a light hand on Will’s arm, not needing to control Will’s actions.

Will had no intention of being on the run. He would bide his time until he made it out with the full approval of the law, and then he would proceed with reckless abandon in order to achieve what he wanted.

Will’s biggest problem at the moment was that what he wanted after he left the prison changed like a pendulum. 

Will admitted to himself that there was a disproportionate amount of thought wasted on wanting to have everything go back to the way it was. That was one of the things he wished for. The others were more painful, but far more realistic. He wanted to tear Hannibal to shreds with his bare hands, watching everything drown in his blood and see the light fade from his eyes with full understanding that he deserved it. 

Will also wanted to forgive Hannibal, and help him from getting caught. He wanted to see him in all his bloody glory, and how he was meant to be seen. His real, true form. See Hannibal create the art that had haunted Will’s dreams for as long as he could remember. Taste the monster on his tongue.

There seemed to be infinite possibilities, and yet Will felt completely trapped. 

Maybe Abigail would be able to help him sort it out, if even just by being there.

\---

“Hey, Will.”

Abigail seemed nervous, and Will wished she didn’t. He had foolishly wanted her to walk in, smiling like when he had handed her the box of fly tying gear, and sit down to have a nice talk with him like nothing was going wrong at all.

“Abigail,” Will said, sounding more relieved than he had intended to, “It’s so good to see you. Please sit down.”

Abigail nodded and sat across from him at the table. She was wringing her hands together in her lap, and wasn’t making eye contact. Will could understand that, but he had hoped she would be more comfortable around him.

“How have you been doing?” Will asked, trying desperately to make her feel better by even a bit, “Have the dogs been doing alright?”

Abigail nodded.

She seemed to have something heavy on her mind, and Will wanted to smother it, but he didn’t know how.

“Hannibal told me not to expect too much from you,” Abigail spat, seeming like the words burned on the way out, “because prison can’t be good for your mental state.”

Will froze, his mind reeling.

That bastard. 

If he tried to warn Abigail about Hannibal now, he would just seem crazy, and Abigail would have no choice but to trust Hannibal even more because he was right. Hannibal might be giving the impression of letting Will do as he pleased, but he never relinquished control over the things he wanted. Will only had the options Hannibal allowed him to have.

Will smiled sadly.

“Well, he is my psychiatrist,” he said.

Abigail met his eyes, sympathy pouring from her gaze and she started to speak.

“No,” Will cut her off, “I don’t trust Fredrick Chilton as far as I could throw him. He’s probably listening to us, and there’s nothing I can do about it. Whatever you say, do it carefully.”

Abigail sighed, nodding. 

“Now, listen,” Will continued, wanting desperately to tell her to run as far away from Hannibal as she could, “I’m really fine. I promise. Don’t worry about me.”

Abigail looked at him, her eyes watery and sad.

“Why won't you let him see you?” She asked quietly.

Will wished he could tell her. He wished she didn't need to know. He wished she could escape all of this. He wished the sweat would stop dripping down the back of his neck.

“Hannibal kept something from me. Something I needed to know,” Will answered carefully, “something that changes everything. I'm still trying to decide how I feel about it, but I don't want to give him a chance to interfere.”

Abigail bit her lip, and she didn't seem able to make eye contact, which Will actually cared about for once.

“It's my fault,” Abigail whispered.

Will felt his eyes widen and he shook his head adamantly.

“No, Abigail. This has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong. I promise. That wasn't his secret to tell. I forgive you both for that one.”

Abigail's brow furrowed.

“Will, I want you to come back,” she confessed, “I'm not sure what to do about Hannibal without you.”

Will felt his heart soften at the same time as it skipped a beat.

Had Hannibal done something? Why would Abigail be worried about what to do about him?

“Abigail, I'm going to get out. I know they have to be close. I didn't kill that man.”

Abigail nodded, hugging herself. She was smart, and she was tough. Will knew she would be fine in time, but she shouldn't need to be. She should be more worried about college and dating than whether or not her guardians were serial killers.

“Hannibal scares me when he's sad,” Abigail confided, “he's not like other people. He doesn't need to talk, or cry. He needs to do something. He's restless.”

Will had to keep his hands from shaking. He would normally have wiped his sweaty palm on his thighs, but the cuffs prevented that here. If Hannibal did anything to Abigail, Will would kill him. He wouldn't hesitate. 

“You don't need to be afraid of Hannibal,” Will said as calmly as he could, “he and I will protect you, and help you. Make sure you tell him that if anything happens to you, I will personally make him regret it.”

Abigail smiled thankfully. If Hannibal knew she was afraid of him, he wouldn't have let her come. She had come for support from Will. Will felt a swell of pride in his chest at the thought. She was smart, and had good survival instincts.

“I've made some flies recently,” Abigail said, changing the subject to something more casual.

Will smiled. He was glad to see that she was trying, despite everything, to be okay.

“I can't wait to see them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was late. I have no real excuse. Recent inspiration has made this chapter possible to post, and I hope I will be on schedule for at least a while now. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and being patient. <3


	41. Ice Heart

“Will says hi,” Abigail stated, not looking up from her dinner.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at her, not quite sure if she was being honest or not.

“Really,” he replied.

Abigail shrugged.

“Well, he says if anything happens to me, he will make sure you regret it,” she corrected, “though I know I'm not in any danger here. Not with you.”

Hannibal knew she was hiding something, but Will had definitely told her to say that. He would normally have decided to find out what she was hiding at any cost, but the warning halted that line of thinking. Will was a man of his word, and would find a way to hurt him. Will was protecting her, even from prison.

Her lion heart.

“Of course you are in no danger,” Hannibal said, “I would protect you with the same heart as Will and I combined if you were put in any danger. I am obligated as your only guardian at the moment to have only your best interests at heart.”

Abigail nodded, her shoulders lax as she put a bite of food into her mouth. Her calm demeanor reminded Hannibal of the face he showed the world, though hers was less practiced. 

She was both predator and prey, keeping hidden from both her predators and her prey. She seemed to have all the cards. Hannibal respected her for that.

Hannibal's phone rang, and he frowned at Jack's name as it interrupted their dinner. He excused himself to answer it.

“We've got a scene, and a suspect. I need your help tonight.”

Hannibal hummed, wondering what would be so important to Jack to justify such a hurry.

“I will be there once I am finished with my dinner,” Hannibal replied calmly, tapping his icy fingers on his leg. He had very little patience for Jack these past weeks, and his constantly extreme temperature swings did little to help.

Jack grunted his approval and the call ended.

Hannibal sighed heavily and returned to the dining room. Abigail tipped her head curiously at him as he took his seat once again.

“I am being called in to work,” Hannibal explained, “once I have returned you to Will’s house, I will be on my way to the FBI.”

Will had set up a room for Abigail in his house, that she was allowed to use in order to take care of the dogs whenever he was out of town. She had been staying there over his prison stay, and Hannibal could tell she liked it much more than she would have if she were to stay in Baltimore with Hannibal.

Abigail nodded.

“It must be really important if they are calling you in on such short notice,” she observed.

Hannibal agreed.

“They have yet to identify the true killer of the man from the symphony,” Hannibal mused aloud, his mind going to the man currently unconscious in the basement.

“Do you think they found someone?” Abigail asked, genuinely curious.

Hannibal smiled.

“I don't think I am at liberty to discuss my cases with you,” he replied.

Abigail sighed, but dropped the subject, knowing he was right. Hannibal did not take kindly to prying questions, even from her. She was quick to learn, and Hannibal appreciated that. She had good survival instincts. 

They ate in a relatively comfortable silence, and Hannibal drove Abigail to Wolf Trap. He told her he would let her know what the options were for the following day once he knew what he was dealing with.

Abigail walked up the steps to the house, her muscles relaxing with every step. She was much more comfortable here than in Hannibal's company, which bothered him. 

He no longer had any leverage with her, and she did not seem forthcoming with any other secrets. 

\---

“Is this enough to exonerate Will?” Hannibal asked, trying not to sound too hopeful as he looked at the scene that had been created.

Someone had done this with the express intention of proving Will was innocent, and Hannibal wanted to know who, and why they cared as much as they did. He hoped their attempt would work, but he wanted to know why.

Jack shrugged.

“Maybe not completely, but it is a better start than we had before. We found some evidence linking this one to a local man. He owns a string instrument shop, and he is looking like a good suspect.”

Hannibal nodded, knowing they were referring to Tobias. Unfortunately for them, he would not be found. If Hannibal ever did decide to let the authorities have Tobias, he would be less than helpful, having lost his tongue and any useful limbs. 

The scene was certainly not matching the artistic talent that Tobias had staged, but it was good enough to convince the team, as long as Hannibal played along.

“It seems the intestines were removed and treated in a similar way as the vocal cords on the previous victim,” Hannibal said aloud.

The organ had been strung out of the body and treated, being shrunk and bleached, running along the length of a large cello. It had been well done, being the work of an amateur, and the organ tapered off into nearly a usable string nearing the end. It really was a sight to behold, and Hannibal applauded the attempt of whoever had done it.

Jack nodded.

“We have every reason to believe this was the work of the same killer,” he said, “and it couldn’t have been Will.”

Hannibal smiled despite himself. Will would be free soon, and there would be nothing stopping them from seeing each other. The dependency he had fostered in Will would hold up, and they would come together once more. He was sure of it.

“It certainly looks that way,” Hannibal agreed, despite knowing it most definitely was not the same person, “I’m sure Will would be able to give you more insight into the matter.”

Hannibal had never considered himself petty, but he relished in forcing Jack to face the matters at hand. He savored the sour expression Jack wore every time he was reminded of what had happened to Will. If he was suffering because of it, then he wanted to bring anyone else responsible for it down with him.

“I’ll see what we can do,” Jack said, turning away to avoid talking about it more.

Hannibal nodded, though Jack could not see it. He rubbed his cold hands together, wondering mildly if Will would be able to feel attempts to improve his temperature, and vice versa. It would be interesting if they could tell what the other was doing, even in part, from something like that. He had never heard of that kind of reaction between links, but Will and himself were far from a typical match. They still had yet to fully discover the extent of their connection.

There were many things to be done once Will was released, and Hannibal was mentally organizing them for easier reference. There was some possibility that Will would remain angry with him, and he could not fully predict what that would entail, but he had to prepare for it nonetheless. 

“If you are quite done with me here,” Hannibal said, drawing Jack’s attention back to himself, “Then I am quite busy this evening. I would like to take my leave.”

Jack didn’t seem pleased, but that was not surprising in the least. He hardly ever seemed pleased.

“Go, but I want a full write up as soon as possible.”

Hannibal nodded and made his way out.

Technically, Jack had no authority to ask hardly anything of him, since Hannibal was not strictly under his employ. Hannibal humored him in his delusions of superiority so that he would not become difficult to work with. A write up would be simple enough. 

But there were things to be done first.


	42. Hot

Will stepped out into the light and felt the sun warm his skin, just a touch.   
His temperature was relatively tame for the time being, so he was neither shivering nor sweating. It gave him the ability to appreciate the situation he found himself in.

Thankfully, Hannibal was nowhere to be seen. The only distasteful face he would have to deal with was Jack’s. That was far from unusual, or even difficult.

“Welcome back,” Jack said, trying for casual and amused, despite the hesitation in his voice.

Will didn’t look at him, instead staring into the sky and watching the clouds. There was just enough of a breeze to send them floating across the sky in a calming way.

In a way, Will supposed he was calm. He almost didn’t feel anything. The only thing guiding his actions at this point were his thoughts. He almost felt as if he were simply a shell of himself, and his movements were dictated by strings pulling at his limbs.

“Back to the real world,” he agreed, though his voice was low and the words were more to himself than to Jack.

Jack seemed to take that as his cue to leave Will alone. He handed him the keys to his car and walked down the steps before driving away.

Will stood alone for a minute, breathing in the fresh air and listening to the sounds of the real world. 

When Matthew walked up next to him, Will turned and gave him a soft smile.   
There was that same adoration and obsession that Will could always see in his eyes. Matthew mistook what he felt for Will as love, and that was good enough for Will. Will needed someone he could trust, and Matthew had proved his loyalty, despite his obvious problems. Will wished he could have someone in his life who he could trust, but didn’t have problems like this. 

Will was not that lucky.

“So, you’re off to Wolf Trap?” Matthew asked, his eyes tracing the frame of Will’s face.

Will nodded.

“I’ll be glad to see my dogs again,” he said, “and to get away from the dusty air of this place.”

Matthew nodded. He reached out and touched Will’s arm in a show of affection. It was something Will had once felt was something he could never have, then he thought only Hannibal would be allowed, and now he felt nothing when Matthew did.

“I’ll see you around?” Matthew asked, tipping his head the way he always did.

It reminded Will of a bird. A bird that allowed a cat to walk closer, on behalf of their own curiosity.

Will made himself smile wider and hum in agreement. 

Will didn’t feel much, but he didn’t want to be alone. He knew Hannibal would count on him cutting everyone out in order to reinsert himself into Will’s life. Will refused to give that to him. He was going to make sure there were no vacancies for Hannibal to try to seize.

“I hope so,” he said, placing his hand over Matthew’s lightly. 

Matthew was extremely receptive to any small show of reciprocated affection, and Will was glad he didn’t have to work too hard to keep him. The others would be more difficult.

\---

“It’s good to see you smile, Will,” Alana said as he knelt to hug the dogs.

Will wasn’t having to fake this smile, which he was glad for. Seeing his dogs was genuinely something that made him feel happy, and it was the first time since he found out about Hannibal that he was actually glad. He buried his sweaty hands into their cool fur, and wrestled as much as he was willing while Alana watched.

“It’s good to have a reason to smile,” Will replied.

Alana was clearly hesitant about something. She probably worried that Will had been damaged by his time in prison, and he couldn’t blame her. She had been adamant that Abigail be gone when he got back, and had offered to be there instead. Will wanted to tell her to mind her own business, but he understood her concern too well.

“Did something happen, between you and Hannibal?” She asked, making it sound like she was ripping off a band aid.

Will sighed.

“Did he say that something did?” he asked in return.

Alana shifted her weight, clearly nervous.

“He said you probably think he failed you as his psychiatrist, because you were in prison. I don’t think that’s like you.”

Will nodded.

It really wasn’t. If he had gone to prison due to a mental break, he would still have only reached to Hannibal for support and help. If the circumstances had been anything else, he might have still just wanted Hannibal to be there for him. 

“He thinks I got lost in the shadows of my own mind,” Will mused aloud. He looked up at Alana with a blank expression. “I didn’t. My mind finally cleared enough to realize that he had been lying to me. I don’t really like lies, Alana.”

Alana nodded.

“I know you don’t, Will. What was he lying about?”

Will huffed a laugh, ducking his head.

“That’s something only Doctor Lecter can tell you, I’m afraid. If I did, you would send me right back to Chilton and the prison bars. You’ll have to ask him, but I don’t think he’ll say. What’s done is done, Alana. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

Alana gave him a sympathetic look. He hated it when she pitied him, but he needed her to, or else she would suspect him. He needed eyes to be either covered or averted from him for a while. He could deal with a little pity if it would keep him out of the spotlight.

“I’m always here if you need to talk, Will,” Alana offered.

Will glanced up at her, smiling gratefully. He knew she wanted him to talk to her. She wanted him to ask for help. She wanted him to show he was just as delicate and vulnerable as she saw him.

“Thank you. When I feel like it, I will,” he promised.

Will was smart enough to know that Alana would find comfort in that, and be patient as she waited for him to open up to her. She liked to smooth out rough edges and fix broken things. Will was about as rough and broken as they come, but he intended only to sharpen his edges. 

Alana was quick to take her leave, apparently deciding Will needed some time to himself, with his house and his dogs. Will was glad for it, because he truly needed a while to think, and to make sure the search through his house hadn’t damaged anything terribly.

Abigail had done a fair job at cleaning up whatever had been moved or damaged. Will could tell there were a few things missing, like a few knives from the knife block and a laptop from his desk, but other than that he was basically back to where he had been.

The dogs smothered him in affection, and he was happy to let them. He took them out and ran with them, then he settled in with them around the fireplace. He smiled at them as he settled himself in for the night, and slept well for the first time since he had gone to prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are slowing down, because of quarantine. I know that sounds like an oxymoron, but I am stuck in a house with other people who are not allowed to leave, so it's a bit crazy. I'm sorry, and I will work on keeping these going. Thanks for reading. I hope you are enjoying it.


	43. Cold

Hannibal tapped his fingers on the counter as he thought. It was a habit he had never exhibited before, and he only spared a few odd glances to the traitorous hand.

Will had been out for a few weeks. He had not let Hannibal know when he had been released. He had not made any attempt to contact him in any way. He had not sent the police after him. Even Abigail was not talking about what was said between them when she visited Wolf Trap. She did so now more than ever before, and she refused rides from Hannibal in favor of having Alana bring her. 

It was driving him mad with desire.

Hannibal was willing to let Will take his time to come back to him. He would wait, and suffer if he must, but he needed some assurance that it would be worth it.

He had nothing at the moment.

Decisively stopping the infernal tapping of his fingers, Hannibal got to work. 

\---

“I'm going to Will's, if that's alright.”

Hannibal looked over Abigail. She wasn't wearing a scarf, which meant she most certainly was going to see Will. Even in Hannibal's house, she preferred to hide the scar. She had a bag slung over her shoulder, and her favorite pair of outdoor boots. Hannibal wondered if they usually went fishing.

“Of course,” Hannibal replied, “though I am going to insist I go with you this time. I have been meaning to speak with him, and there is no time like the present.”

He said it with a warm smile, but Abigail looked like she had seen a ghost.

“You don't think it's rude to drop in unannounced?” She countered.

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at her obvious attempt to dissuade him.

“Will has never been much for conventional manners,” he reasoned, “and I think any time you are visiting, I am unlikely to find him in a compromising state. Besides which, I cannot guarantee he would agree to speak with me should I forewarn him of my coming.”

Abigail relented, though she tapped her fingers through the entire drive. She seemed worried, and Hannibal could only hazard guesses as to why. Perhaps Will was planning to do something to Hannibal. There was really no sure way to know.

There was a second car already in Will's driveway when Hannibal pulled up. Abigail kept stealing glances at him, like she was trying to tell when the tiger would show its teeth.

The car had its hood up, and Will was bent over the engine. He turned his head a bit, listening as they pulled in more than watching. Hannibal switched off the car and Abigail stepped out.

“Hey, Will!” She called, and Will straightened from his position.

He wiped some grease from his hands onto a stained cloth, seemingly unaware of the streak on his jaw that was almost comical in the way it only enhanced his naturally handsome features. He still hadn't turned fully, apparently focused on whatever was wrong with the vehicle.

“Hey, Abigail, I was hoping I would be done with this before you got here. I guess Alana wasn't busy today?”

Hannibal shut his own car door, and that was what drew Will's gaze. He turned and fully looked at them. His eyes only flicked over Hannibal before landing on Abigail warmly.

“Matthew is inside, trying to figure out what a tackle box looks like. You want to help him? The dogs probably want some food too, and I know you always feed them, even when I warn you off it.”

Abigail smiled, albeit warily, and nodded. She spared them each a glance before heading inside. Will only stared at Hannibal with a blank expression. He didn't seem worried, any more than he seemed surprised.

“You here to kill me, or try to convince me not to leave you out in the cold?” Will asked, likely completely aware of how cold Hannibal was at the time. His tone matched his facial expression. Devoid of emotion.

Hannibal decided not to answer that immediately.

“Matthew?” He asked.

Will shrugged, turning back to the car.

“Yeah. You know him. He was your personal mailman while I was in jail. He's a nice guy. He would do anything for me, and would never lie about anything. Especially anything important.”

The words were aimed to sting, and Hannibal felt it, though they also offered some insight.

“Is that truly what bothers you, Will? The fact that I kept it from you. Not the deeds that I have done?”

Will huffed a laugh as he moved his hands expertly over the parts of the car engine.

“You knew that wouldn't be what bothered me,” he replied, “I've seen worse, and hardly any of that bothers me anymore. I've got enough killers in my head to put your collection to shame. I never lied to you about that. You knew all of that, and still you led me on. I thought I was safe with you. I thought we were honest with each other. I thought I knew who you were.”

Hannibal considered that. It explained why Will had not called the police, or tried to convince them of his identity. He saw it as a personal slight, and not an actual crime. Perhaps the infection Hannibal had allowed did more to help him than he had thought.

“Are you and Matthew honest with each other?” Hannibal wondered aloud.

Will scoffed.

“I told you before that I can't just have anybody kicking around in my head. I'm as honest with him as I need. He can't lie to me, though, which is what counts for me.”

Hannibal shifted his weight. Despite Will's clear anger with him, he felt a quiet sense of triumph that he was still the only one that truly knew Will.

“You do not feel the imbalance to be detrimental to your relationship?”

Will stepped away from the car, sighing.

“Matthew knows what I am lying to him about, and he accepts that. He knows where the blanks are, and if he lasts long enough, I might fill them in. Are you just here to psychoanalyze me, or did you actually want something?”

Hannibal _wanted_. He wanted so badly. The only thing between him and what he wanted was his own silent promise to let Will make the choice.

“I will never lie to you again,” he promised, “but you know what it is I want, and what I hoped in coming here today.”

Will glared at him, but then the door to his house opened, and out stepped Matthew. He grinned and walked over to Will. He put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his forehead.

Hannibal seethed.

Outwardly, Hannibal kept a polite smile, and he could see that Will was doing the same.

“Hello, Doctor Lecter,” Matthew said, placing an arm around Will's shoulders, “I didn't know you would be coming over.”

Hannibal only watched Will, seeing every tiny movement that let him know how things really were between the two. 

“I had not planned on it, but Abigail required a ride, and I had not seen Will in such a long time. I was curious to see if he would be resuming therapy.”

Matthew smiled, and he looked like he was only a boy. He was nothing.

“Alana couldn't make the trip?” He asked, “that's a shame. I guess Will told you what's what, though.”

Hannibal still didn't bother looking directly at Matthew. For all he cared, that man did not exist.

“Yes. He did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you haven't noticed, I ran out of clever things to title the chapters. I have resorted to just hot and cold, depending on the POV, but feel free to leave me some suggestions if you have a really good idea. I didn't know I would get to a point where I ran out of stupid puns.


	44. Hot

Alana twisted her hands together on the table. She was not happy, and Will knew he owed her an explanation. She was ever patient with him, and one of his few real friends. She also didn’t have anyone to go home to at night.

She hadn’t had a soulmate for years.

Alana had met her soulmate in college, and they had been happy. They had been compatible, and good for each other. He had loved her, and she had loved him. Fate is cruel, and he had died just a year after they had found each other, leaving her with an unfulfilled promise of an engagement ring and a happy home. 

Some people grew soft and sweet from their suffering. 

Too bad Will only turned bitter and dark.

“I am sorry,” Will said, handing her a cup of coffee as sweet as her soul, and holding a cup as dark as his own, “I’ve lied to you. It was really a lie of omission, but I should apologize for it anyway. I don’t know if you will forgive me for it when I tell you.”

Alana reached forward and gently set her hand over his. She was warm, but not a burning hot as Will was. Her skin was like a cool cloth against his. 

“I’m sure it’s not that bad, Will,” she said naively, “I know you.”

Will smiled wryly and took a drink from his cup. It burned on its way down, and Will wondered if he should try drinking cold beverages instead of coffee when he was overheated like this.

“I’ve found my soulmate,” he confessed, running a hand through his sweat damp hair. 

Alana was surprised, and her hand pulled away slightly in her shock. They had always talked frankly about their links, and Will knew she would have expected him to tell her if he met them. There wouldn’t have been any reason to hide it from her.

“Will. That’s great,” she said, though it was tense and untrue, “I’m surprised, but I’m not upset. Do I know them? Is that why you’re worried?”

Will swallowed, wishing he was drinking something stronger than coffee. He had hoped despite himself that Alana would react differently. It would have been so much easier if she was not so forgiving.

“It’s Hannibal.”

The silence was deafening, and Will wished she would shout, or slap him. He wanted her to stop trying to understand him, and just be angry with him for once. He hated it when people pitied him, and her pity for him was what drove her to try so hard to keep him from breaking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

Will hated that her tone was not accusatory. He hated that she sounded so sad, but she still wanted to hear his side. 

He looked down at his hands.

“I don’t like psychiatrists,” he reminded her, “and I didn’t want Jack to send me to a different one. I wasn’t even sure we would work out, and I just didn’t want everyone to know about it. It was selfish and cowardly of me. I’m sorry.”

He knew she would see him as some poor, kicked puppy. He hated it, but it was all he could do. He needed her to see him as innocent, and good. He needed to have people who had faith in him. He needed to have people other than Hannibal.

“I’m so sorry,” Alana said, “I should have been someone you could trust with that. I can’t imagine how hard it must have been to not be able to tell anyone when you were struggling. Especially since it doesn’t seem to have worked out.”

Will laughed bitterly, taking another drink.

“That’s just it, Alana. It did work out. It was perfect. Everything was good. We were good for each other. Everyone could see it. It was amazing. I should have told you then. I could have told you. I chose not to.”

Alana took a deep breath, and Will knew she was processing his words. It would still take her a while to fully grasp what he had been keeping from her.

“What happened?” 

Will wanted to sob. He wanted to groan in frustration. He wanted to tell her everything, but he refused to.

“I told you before that Hannibal has to be the one to tell you. I don’t think he will, and I told you that too. All I can say is that he lied to me, and I don’t know if I can forgive him for it. I know you don’t know what could be that bad. I know he’s my link, and you can’t fully understand how I could reject him. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Alana radiated sympathy. She nodded.

“I’m sorry. I wish I could understand for you. You’re right, though. I can’t imagine Jared ever doing anything that would have made me reject him. I wish I could help you more.”

Will shook his head, and this time, he was the one to reach out. He placed his hand over one of hers, and actually met her eyes.

“I just needed to tell someone. Thank you for always being here for me. You deserve better than what this world has given you.”

Alana smiled sadly.

Will knew she agreed. She had only ever tried to do good in the world, and the world had rewarded her with nothing but heartache. Even Will’s own struggles would weigh on her until she saw them resolved.

“Are you going to tell Jack?”

Alana considered it for a moment before shaking her head.

“It’s not mine to tell,” she said, making Will smile, “and I don’t think it would be good for anyone if he started bothering you about it right now. Hannibal clearly needs to work some things out for himself. I hope you can get better.”

Will nodded.

Alana had met Matthew, but he hadn’t told her exactly why he was hanging around. She was too polite to ask about him. There were some things in his life that he was still going to keep to himself. 

“Will you stay here until he leaves today?” Will asked, “I know he is going to insist on driving Abigail again. He wants to force me to talk to him.”

Alana nodded.

“Hannibal is my friend too, Will, but I’ll be here for both of you.”

Will smiled and nodded. That was all he could ask from her at that point. He couldn’t make Alana stop being friends with Hannibal unless he told her what he had done. If he did that, he would probably lose her as a friend as well. She might not even believe him.

\---

“Good morning, Will. Alana,” Hannibal said, stepping out of the car after Abigail. He nodded to them each in turn, and Abigail only offered an apologetic shake of her head to Will.

“Abigail, I’ve got a picnic basket on the table. Put whatever you want in it, and we’ll go on a hike after Alana leaves.”

Abigail smiled and nodded, heading into the house. Will stared Hannibal down as she did, and he could feel Alana shifting nervously beside him.

“I see Matthew is not with you today,” Hannibal noted, “though you have called upon Alana to act as your buffer.”

Will sighed.

“Doctor Lecter, I hope you are well this morning,” Will replied curtly, “Matthew does have a job, and you cannot possibly expect him to spend every waking hour protecting me from your intrusive questions.”

Hannibal frowned.

“There was once a time you did not feel my questions were intrusive. You would tell me anything. I wonder what has changed so much about me now that you feel my questions are intrusive to you.”

Will pressed his lips into a thin line, shifting his weight. He really didn’t want to have this conversation in front of Alana. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have it at all, but Alana was not involved. He didn’t want her to be any more than she already was. She was a good buffer, but only as long as she was oblivious.

“If I answer that, then I will be telling Alana everything,” Will warned, “I told her she would have to ask you about it, if you would say. If that’s what you want, then tell her now so we can have that conversation. If not, go home.”

Alana was snapping her attention between the two of them. She was smart, and she would be able to tell that there really were hard feelings between them. She would ask one or both of them about it, but later. She would be content letting them work it out between them for now.

Hannibal smiled at Alana, though Will could see the traces of displeasure in his face. He was not happy she was there. He wanted to talk to Will alone.

That was what Will was afraid of, yet also wanted.

“Alana, as much as I respect your opinion and value your friendship, I do not wish to make you any part of our disagreement,” Hannibal told her.

The words were so sugary and sweet Will had to hide a snicker behind a cough. 

Alana gave him a wary glance, and Hannibal was entirely amused by his reaction, though he hid it from their company. Will rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them at least a bit. 

“Well, I guess that means you will be leaving,” Alana said, glancing to them both again and clearly trying to be the middle ground between them, “It was nice seeing you, and I’ll probably be seeing you again soon.”

Hannibal nodded curtly to her before fixing Will with an intense gaze. Will met his eyes, but only frowned at him. He wouldn’t break. Not for Hannibal. Not now.

“Goodbye. I will return if Abigail needs a ride back,” Hannibal said, turning and sliding back into his car. 

Will glared after him as he pulled away, and refused to admit to himself that he wanted him to come back and fight for his place. He wanted Hannibal to show him how much he actually wanted what they used to have. He didn’t want to be the only one suffering.

“Well, that was certainly interesting. At least he respects you enough to not try and touch you while you are angry with him. I know how that would be for you,” Alana said, turning back to face Will fully.

Will smiled sadly.

She really didn’t know. Not at all. She didn’t know a thing.

“Yeah. At least,” Will agreed, “I’m sorry I asked you to be here. I feel like I dragged you into my problems.”

Alana smiled.

“I’m glad to be here for you, Will, but I really should get going. Good luck with everything.”

Will nodded.

Abigail had a lunch all ready for them, and a fair amount of questions as well. Will tried to satisfy her curiosity without making her a part of his and Hannibal’s problems.


	45. Cold

“So, Will asked you not to say anything about him being your link?” Alana asked, taking a sip of her beer, “At least I’m guessing. You aren’t the kind of person who worries about that kind of thing. You wouldn’t have cared if people knew.”

Hannibal hummed in agreement, though he found himself distracted. It had become usual for him to not be able to fully focus on the conversations at hand. He was going insane from the distance. 

How did Will stand it?

Hannibal thought he would end up adding more people to his Rolodex if he found out, though Matthew was already on it, and Will might not have more than that.

“I would not have minded in the least, had Will given it his approval,” Hannibal agreed, his voice flat as he did not have the mental energy to feign casual conversational tones, “But I would not have done anything if Will did not agree. I value his opinion above all else.”

Alana gave him a sympathetic smile. She thought he was someone who had simply made a mistake, and should be pitied for the consequences that befell him. She could not fathom the extent to which he had failed at his task of loving Will.

“I can’t imagine you would do anything to make him this upset,” she said softly, “at least not while knowing it.”

Hannibal nodded.

“It was less of something that I did while with him, and more my avoiding speaking about something. I had hoped to help him be prepared for what I must tell him, and have it be a source of strength for us. Unfortunately, he found out through someone else. I may have waited too long.”

Maybe the self-loathing had leaked through his voice, because Alana shifted closer, placing a hand over his wrist and stilling his movements.

Her hands were warm, and Hannibal felt them flinch as they came into contact with his frigid own. 

“What are you going to do?” Alana asked.

Hannibal knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to tear through Matthew, and anyone else that would dare touch Will. He wanted to capture Will, like a wild animal, and keep him. He wanted to make it so there would never be another chance for Will to reject him. He wanted to pin him down like a butterfly under glass, and hoard his beauty for himself.

But he had told Will that he was the one in authority. He had given Will the power to refuse or accept him. He had let Will go.

“I suppose I will try to earn his trust back,” Hannibal replied, “In whatever way I can.”

Alana nodded, reclaiming her hand.

“He’s slow to trust anyone,” she warned, though Hannibal already knew that well enough, “and I don’t know how hard it will be to get him to trust you after you broke it.”

Hannibal sighed, putting the cut vegetables into the pan. He felt some level of despair at the thought. He knew Will was slow to trust, and that was why he had worked so patiently to build it. He had run out of patience, now, but was back to the beginning. 

“What did you do to break it, Hannibal?” Alana asked cautiously. She did not want to intrude, but Hannibal knew she was terribly curious. She still had only a naive understanding of how links worked, building off her own brief experience.

“It is not something I wish to discuss,” Hannibal replied carefully, “at least not at this time. Perhaps once I earn Will back, I will tell you. I only want to have him again.”

Hannibal was apparently too emotionally compromised to keep these dangerous words at bay. He tried not to make a habit of being so frank about his emotions with anyone. Will was the only one he had allowed behind the veil. Hannibal needed to get Will back, before he went around to everyone and told them how he felt. 

Even the thought of acting in that way made Hannibal want to grimace. It was unbecoming. He must think of something to do before he drove himself insane.

\---

Matthew was still in Will’s home. Abigail had left with Alana about an hour earlier, and it was growing late. Hannibal hoped Matthew would leave as well, but as time drug on it became clear he had no intention to. Hannibal’s blood was boiling as he watched the house. 

Matthew was an insolent child if he thought Will actually felt anything for him. If he thought he was worthy of even a moment of Will’s time. If he thought he would survive his trespasses. 

When the final light went out, Hannibal stepped from his car, seething as he made his way through the evening air.

It would have been better if they could have this conversation alone, but Matthew would just have to be a sacrifice Hannibal was willing to make.

Hannibal made his way silently to the back door, and could hear hushed voices as he worked it open. Tobias had been right. Will didn’t lock it. Will seemed to be speaking calmly to Matthew, who was upset about something. Matthew did not seem angry, but he was certainly concerned. As he grew closer, Hannibal was able to make out the words being exchanged.

“Will, please,” Matthew begged, “tell me who he is. I can protect you. Let me help you. He doesn’t deserve you. Let me do this for you.”

“Matthew, I don’t need your protection. The Chesapeake Ripper wouldn’t hurt me. He already had his chance, and he won’t.”

“Then let me take care of him. Let me know who he is, so I can make it so you don’t have to worry about what he will do. I’ll only do this for you, Will. Please.”

Hannibal stepped around the corner to see the sniveling, worthless mess of a man. Matthew was sitting on the edge of the bed, next to Will. Will saw him immediately, and Hannibal watched to see what would happen.

Will acted as if nothing was amiss as he continued to talk to Matthew.

“I don’t need to worry about what he will do,” he said solemnly, “I always know before he does it. He just takes a while sometimes.”

Was that right. Hannibal had had enough.

Hannibal stepped forward and cut Matthew’s throat with one swift motion. The man gurgled and sputtered as he fell onto the floor to die. Will didn’t so much as flinch when the blood hit him, and he watched with a clinical, almost bored expression.

“What a useless excuse for a man,” Hannibal stated, standing over Matthew’s slowly stilling body.

Will stood, sighing as if he had just escaped an uncomfortable social situation.

“Not useless. He was useful for exactly what I needed him for,” he replied casually, “And I’m glad I didn’t end up having to do this.”

Will gestured to the body before walking to the kitchen to wash up. Hannibal followed, silent. Once more, he was unexpectedly unsure of what to do.

“I’m glad you didn’t decide to kill Alana instead of Matthew. She really doesn’t deserve it. Now, you came here to say something, so say it.”

Will had turned around, and was leaning back against his counter as he spoke. His hair was darker from the water, and reflected moonlight from the window. 

“You knew I would come,” Hannibal said, “you knew I would kill him.”

Will shrugged, but his lips were turning up into a wicked smile.

“I was telling him the truth. I don’t need to be afraid of you. He was the one who should have been afraid. You won’t hurt me, but I can get you to kill someone if I try.”

Hannibal tipped his head.

“You wanted me to kill Matthew.”

Will chuckled softly. He looked so relaxed, and beautiful as ever. 

“That guy killed people,” he answered, “Matthew killed someone just so I could get out of prison. He wanted to kill you as a gift for me. The world is better off without him. I just needed to get you angry enough to want to kill him more than watch what he would do.”

Hannibal wanted to be angry, but he wasn’t sure if he could.

“You would have done it yourself,” Hannibal noted.

Will nodded.

“If you took long enough. I don’t have an endless supply of patience, Doctor Lecter. He was already getting too clingy for my taste. Too bad the rest won’t be that easy to convince you to take care of. I might not be their type.”

Now, Hannibal was angry. He felt a growl rise from his chest, and he bared his teeth at Will, who only raised an eyebrow.

“You  _ belong to me _ !” Hannibal roared, stepping forward with his hand clenching the knife in his hand.

Will rose and stepped forward with lightning speed. He placed a hand on Hannibal’s chest, and pushed hard. Hannibal stumbled back a step, and Will pointed at Matthew’s body.

“No.  _ You _ belong to  **_me_ ** ,” He snapped.

Hannibal froze.

Will was right. Hannibal belonged to Will. There was nothing within him that did not belong to Will Graham, and he would kill, live, and die for him. 

Hannibal fell to his knees, dropping the knife. 

There were no enemies here anymore. There was only Will and himself. He began to shiver from mental exhaustion, and the sudden freezing chill that came over him. He had only been that cold once before, and he thought it must be a harbinger of his death. 

It would only be fitting, for him to die when he realized he no longer had any control. Kill the monster while it was powerless.

There was a warm hand on his head, and he looked up when the warmth flooded his body. Will was smiling down at him, and he looked like an angel through the tears Hannibal hadn’t realized he had been shedding. 

Will lowered himself so they were on the same level, and he cradled Hannibal’s face in his warm hands. Hannibal found his own hands rising to grasp Will’s wrists. He clutched at him, fearing it was all a dream as those who died often experienced. Maybe death came with this sort of comfort. He had never expected that, or believed in it, but he would now. He would believe anything if it came from Will’s mouth.

“Will,” he whispered.

Will pressed their foreheads together, and Hannibal breathed him in. It had been far too long. He wouldn’t have lived another moment without being able to breath the same air as Will. To occupy the same space as him. Nothing was right except for this.

“You stupid, cannibalistic Bastard,” Will whispered back, “you should have just told me at the beginning. I would still have loved you. I don’t have any choice. I chose you before I knew what you were.”

Hannibal choked on the air that seemed painted with Will’s words.

“I had to be sure you were ready. I’m so sorry, Will.”

Will kissed him, and everything was right with the world. Hannibal wasn’t sure he was forgiven, but he was here. He was with Will, and that was all that mattered in the moment.


	46. Take the Heat

Will hadn’t meant to give up that easily. He had intended to keep Hannibal fighting for a bit. He had wanted to keep him angry and jealous for as long as he could stand.

When Hannibal had fallen to the floor, and Will felt the wave of searing heat pass over him, it was like the universe had given him an ultimatum. He had to choose then what he would do.

He hadn’t even hesitated. It was never really a question. He had always known he would choose Hannibal. Even when he had been blind, he had known he would choose Hannibal even in such a circumstance. He had only thought he could reject Hannibal when he wanted to be able to. He wanted to have the choice. He never had, though.

Hannibal was acting as silly as one of Will’s dogs, now. He sat at the counter, watching Will prepare breakfast with wide, adoring eyes. Will imagined he even had a long, wagging tail behind him, and the thought made him smile despite himself. 

Hannibal had whispered words of worship for hours after Will had kissed him. Will actually felt embarrassed by it, feeling like he must have broken the man. A little part of him preened at the attention, though. 

It wasn’t the same as what Matthew had offered. Matthew had been willing to blindly follow him, and serve him, and make sacrifices to him. It was awkward, and off putting. Will had hated every minute of it. 

Hannibal would walk in step with him, and they would know everything about each other, and act in tandem. They were meant for each other, and their understanding of each other made it so they could not be stopped.

When Will placed a plate in front of Hannibal, the man caught his hand and pressed a kiss to his palm. Will rolled his eyes, but smiled. He reclaimed his hand and Hannibal started to eat the eggs and bacon. 

“What will we do with the body?” Hannibal asked, apparently completely absorbed in the idea of Will’s ownership over him.

Will ran a hand over his face. It was too early to be talking about murder, but he supposed there wasn’t really any getting around it.

“We get rid of it,” he stated, taking a sip from his coffee, “and no art with him. He ties too closely back to me, and you if they dig deep enough. I don’t want him to be found. Ever.”

Hannibal nodded, and opened his mouth to suggest something, but Will knew what it was.

“No. I’m not letting you cook for me. At least not yet. I can’t promise I will never let you again, but right now I still don’t trust you enough. You’re going to have to work for it.”

Hannibal shut his mouth, and Will knew he was nearly devastated. He looked back down to his plate and continued eating in silence.

“Listen, Hannibal,” Will said.

Will knew Hannibal liked it when he said his name, and Hannibal looked up at its use. 

“Just because I love you, doesn’t mean I have forgiven you in full. You were feeding me people without my permission, and killing people behind my back. You knew I was trying to track you down, and you led me in circles. Trust has to be earned, Hannibal. You haven’t yet.”

Hannibal swallowed and nodded sadly.

“I am sorry, Will,” he said, “I will work every day for the rest of my life to earn your trust and affection.”

Will rolled his eyes. Hannibal was still as pretentious as ever.

“Out of curiosity, did you ever consider cooking me up?” Will asked. 

He had wondered for a while. Hannibal probably had, and he wanted to see how he would reply. 

Hannibal looked as sheepish as the man possibly could.

“I confess I considered it,” he admitted, “Though I quickly discarded the notion. I do not wish to remove you from this world.”

Will huffed a quiet laugh.

“Do you think your temp would normalize if you ate me?” he wondered aloud.

“It was one of the things I considered. If you had not been amenable to attempting a relationship in the beginning, I likely would have found out.”

Will raised his eyebrows. Lucky he decided to catch Hannibal no matter the cost. He could be long dead if he had decided to keep to himself. 

“It’s almost a shame we aren’t going to find out now,” he said, taking a sip of coffee, “I don’t think I’ve seen any studies on cannibalistic links. It would have been very educational.”

Hannibal looked at Will with heartbreaking adoration. How did he manage to look so defenseless and pitiful when he was literally a cannibalistic serial killer? Will was getting annoyed at his lovely face.

“I would sacrifice any opportunity if it meant having you,” Hannibal promised.

“God. You’re so sappy,” Will said, “tone it down about a thousand, and stop making those faces. I’m going to kiss you again if you don’t.”

Hannibal smiled to himself and continued eating. 

“Foolish to incentivize something you wish to discourage,” Hannibal said smugly.

Will grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up to kiss him. This was possibly the only way to keep that smirk off his face, and his face out of Will’s sight. Hannibal grinned into the kiss, but Will bit at him hard enough to hurt. The smile disappeared, but Hannibal only kissed him harder, forcing Will up and onto the counter.

“This is definitely not a reward,” Will declared, pulling on Hannibal’s suit harder.

Hannibal huffed a laugh and pulled Will even closer, until there was no space between them. 

“Then it is a very poor punishment,” he replied.

Will slid off the counter so he was standing between it and Hannibal, still gripping his suit. He wondered how hard it would be to tear the clothes to shreds, and how put out Hannibal would be if he did. 

“Masochist,” Will poked.

They made their way to the bed.

“Sadist,” Hannibal replied.

\---

Will woke up to the sound of his dogs, and the moment he did, he was almost crushed by the arms around him. Hannibal had his head pressed to Will’s shoulder blades, and his grip on Will had tightened to near suffocating at the sound of barking.

Will placed a hand over Hannibal’s on his chest and gently pried it off. Hannibal rumbled sleepily, but his grip loosened slightly from that arm. The other one was going to be harder, Will could tell. It was wrapped around his waist, and Hannibal’s hand was trapped under him on the mattress.

With a sigh, Will reached behind him and shook Hannibal’s shoulder gently.

“Hannibal,” he said, “I’m not going anywhere except the kitchen. Wake up so I can get out of bed.”

Hannibal rubbed his forehead against the nape of Will’s neck and inhaled deeply. Will still wasn’t sure if he was awake, but the grip on his waist hadn’t let up at all. Will shook him again, this time speaking more firmly.

“Hannibal. You stupid cannibal. Let go. I need to feed the dogs.”

Hannibal’s breathing halted for a moment, and Will knew he was awake now. The hand under him shifted slightly against him, as if memorizing the feel of his skin. It was something Hannibal liked to do, and Will had never been able to begrudge him of it.

“Let go,” he said again.

“Or,” Hannibal offered, sounding almost playful, “I could keep you here. The dogs would forgive you. I just got you back. Why would I release my hold?”

Will wanted to roll his eyes, but he was grinning. 

“They can’t forgive me if they starve, Doctor Lecter. I’m not leaving you. Do you want something to eat? I can cook something.”

Hannibal’s grip loosened and Will sat up in the bed, running a hand through his unruly hair. What about him Hannibal saw as attractive, Will did not know. He was by every definition a mess.

“They would not starve from a single postponed meal,” Hannibal griped, though it was an insincere pout.

Will laughed and shook his head. He slipped out of bed and let the dogs out while he filled their bowls. Hannibal followed him like a lost puppy, and Will was tempted to pat his cheeks and tell him to run off like a good little boy. What would it take to make Hannibal act normal again, but not let him be manipulative?

“Alright. I’ve got some fish, and we can invite Abigail over for dinner tonight,” Will said, looking through his fridge.

He had never kept much food in the house before, having always forgotten to use ingredients until after they had gone bad. After being released from prison, he had done some grocery shopping, and it was fairly well stocked now.

Hannibal nodded lightly, and Will raised an eyebrow at him.

“Does she know about you?” he asked, pulling a few things from the cupboards to begin preparing their meal, “I mean, you know. The stuff you do. Has she figured it out? Or did you tell her?”

Hannibal wet his lips.

“I’m unsure what answer I want to give you,” he said.

Will stared at him dead on, daring him to try something.

“The truth,” he demanded, “Otherwise, trust isn’t going to be something you’re getting anytime soon. Forget ever cooking for either of us again. I’ll make sure you don’t.”

Hannibal swallowed. He looked down at his hands and tried to look casual.

“She does not know anything of any surety,” he admitted, “Though she is very clever, and I cannot tell what she may have figured out on her own.”

Will nodded, smiling to himself. 

“Did you plan on telling her?” he asked, turning on the stove and preparing their food.

“When she was ready,” Hannibal replied, “I did not enjoy keeping things from you, Will. I hope you believe me.”

“Like I said. Earn your trust. I think she’s ready.”

At Hannibal’s concerned expression, Will only frowned and looked back to the food.

“You obviously aren’t as good at knowing when people are ready as you thought you were. You aren’t as good at reading her as you think you are. Did you know you’ve been freaking her out since I got arrested?”

Hannibal still didn’t respond, but the blank look on his face let Will know exactly how out of his own loop he was realizing he was.

Will nodded.

“Yeah. She’s pretty good at reading you, I have to say. Maybe she has a talent for cannibals. She knew you were sad, but that you deal with it differently than others. She told me you don’t need to talk, or cry. You need to do something. She just doesn’t know what that something is. It scared her, though. She has good instincts.”

Hannibal nodded, and they shared the silence as Will cooked the food and served them both. Will had to admit, it was weird to be the one cooking out of them two. He wondered if Hannibal was having to choke down the food because it was so far below his usual standard.

Observing him as he ate, Will couldn’t see any signs that Hannibal wasn’t enjoying the food, so he decided it didn’t matter much. 

“Would you honestly have killed Matthew if I had not?” Hannibal asked.

Will looked up and blinked. 

He hadn’t remembered saying that, but he thought back and realized he had implied it.

Will shrugged noncommittally.

“Eventually,” he replied, “Like I said, he was a killer. He deserved what he got. I just wanted you to do it.”

Hannibal considered that for a moment in silence.

“Did you want me to kill him because you do not want to become a killer?” he asked quietly.

Will bit his lip. He knew this was coming. He couldn’t be the only one gaining from their new relationship. He needed to earn his own sort of trust in return.

“Hannibal. Look at me.”

Hannibal looked up, and their gazes locked.

“I intend to kill anyone who manages to slip through the system like Matthew did. The people who aren’t going to get justice dealt to them if not by me. I’m going to be more picky than you, but don’t think I’m not changed. All the messing around you have done in my head has left a mark. I hope you’re happy.”

Hannibal didn’t break eye contact, and Will held it until he decided the message had gotten across. He returned his attention to his food and continued eating.


	47. Coldly

Hannibal had needed to calm himself down after fully waking up. 

The realization he had woken up in a bed alongside Will had made him nearly panic. He had tightened his grip around Will for the irrational fear that the man would disappear. He had slept alone for so long, that he hated the thought of it now. He hated every minute he was not pressed near Will.

But that wasn’t a realistic dream for their life going forward. 

He refused to let Will out of his sight as long as he possibly could, though. He had to be sure Will was real. All of this was real.

Will saw so much, and every time he spoke it only made Hannibal love him more.

Abigail suspected him. He had wondered about it before, but he was pleased to hear she was even smarter than he had given her credit for. She was clever, and had been able to hide this from him. She had known the best way to protect herself would be to talk to Will first.

Hearing Will promise that he would kill anyone he deemed worthy had made Hannibal’s heart soar. He had hoped to help Will realize this side of himself, and knowing it had worked was one of the greatest gifts Will could have given him. Hannibal didn’t care if Will was more precise about who he killed. He didn’t care if Will refused to display or cook the victims. Just hearing that he would act with his own violent justice was enough to make Hannibal want to pull him back into the bed for the rest of the day.

But they had things to do, which Hannibal couldn’t honestly begrudge.

They cleaned the kitchen alongside each other, working in tandem like they had done it all their lives. Hannibal felt like they could almost perfectly predict the other’s movements, to avoid collisions. His heart sang as they worked.

Will called Abigail and invited her over for dinner, being sure to warn her of Hannibal’s presence. Hannibal tried to listen to what she might be saying, but Will was very good at keeping him from hearing. Will had promised to explain everything to Abigail over dinner. 

When Will started getting out the ingredients for said dinner, he pushed Hannibal out of the kitchen.

“You will not allow me to cook for you even when you supply all the ingredients?” Hannibal asked, sounding a bit more sad than he had intended. 

It was honestly hurtful that Will didn’t even trust him that much.

Will raised an eyebrow at him and pressed his lips together.

“Nope. Not yet. Until I trust you again, I’m the new cook. I am the cook in this house, and I especially don’t want Abigail to be eating something you cooked when we have our discussion tonight. You have a lot of work to do before you earn that back for either of us, I think.”

Hannibal nodded, feeling his heart sink a bit. He had honestly hoped Will would allow him to earn back his trust through acts of service, like cooking. Perhaps he expected something more. 

Hannibal sat at the counter and watched as Will cooked. Will was very good at it, when he wanted to be. Hannibal had never had the pleasure of watching Will cook anything very grand, and he was enchanted by the opportunity. Will was sure and steady in his movements, chopping and stirring with precision. The vision was nothing like what Hannibal painted when he cooked, but it was perfect in it’s difference. 

“Taste this,” Will said, shoving a spoon into Hannibal’s face.

Hannibal tasted it, and it was delicious. He hummed his approval, and Will nodded, going back to work.

“Have you been able to cook all this time, and just never told me?” Hannibal asked, still savoring the flavors in his mouth.

Will smirked.

“I liked letting you cook for me,” he confessed softly, “I never really had anyone who would do that for me, if not out of pity.”

Hannibal felt an ache in his chest, knowing he had hurt Will. He had never truly intended to hurt him like this. He had wanted Will to grow into his own skin, and have them both end up where they belonged. He had never wanted this.

“And,” Will continued, a hint of self-reprimand in his voice, “I loved watching you.”

Hannibal wanted to soothe all his worries away. He wanted to pull Will close and reassure him. Promise that everything was better, and banish all his fears.

“I am sorry, Will. I may never forgive myself,” Hannibal admitted, staring down at his hands.

These hands were the ones he had used to cook all those meals. The hands he had used to kill those people, and create the art he thought worthy of only Will’s eyes. Will was the only one who could ever understand. How these hands had fumbled.

“I’m sorry too,” Will said sharply, “But what’s done is done, and we both just have to forge on.”

Hannibal nodded. Just so.

\---

“How many people have you killed?” Abigail asked softly, staring down at the fish on her plate.

Will was watching Hannibal to make sure he did not lie, and Hannibal wet his lips before answering.

“Many more than your father,” he replied, “but you are in no danger from me. I promise not to harm you, or Will.”

Abigail looked up at him, and she was afraid of him. It was odd to see in her eyes, because she had always kept up the appearance of bravery in front of others. Then, she looked at Will.

“And how about you?” she asked, “How many people have you killed?”

Her tone was accusing, but not so much as to make Hannibal upset. She was simply sure Will had been hiding more from her.

Will slowly cut a piece of fish.

“Only your dad and a man who tried to hurt you while you were in your coma,” Will replied calmly, “I guess I’m the protective type.”

Abigail smiled softly at that. She was glad Will was protective of her. She felt protected by him, from Hannibal and everyone else.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked, glancing between the two of them.

Will chewed slowly, but Hannibal knew he wanted to be the one to answer her.

“I want you to know that we will not hurt you, whatever you choose to do,” Will promised, “but Hannibal does not intend to stop killing, and I am not going to stop him.”

Abigail stared down at her plate as she thought.

“Hannibal,” she said softly, “were you feeding them to me?”

Hannibal set his silverware down and let a pause hang in the air before replying.

“Yes,” he answered honestly, “and Will. I fed them to nearly anyone who has eaten at my table.”

Abigail swallowed hard, still staring at her food.

“You don’t have to worry about this food,” Will told her, “I didn’t let him touch it while I was cooking. It’s really fish.”

Abigail breathed deeply, and her shoulders relaxed a touch. She closed her eyes, and Hannibal knew she was trying to decide what she was going to do.

“I think I need some time to think about it,” Abigail said at last, flicking her gaze between them.

Will nodded in understanding, and Hannibal resumed eating.

“We understand. Don’t worry. There’s no rush. We want you to feel safe with whatever you choose.”

Abigail nodded.

The rest of the meal was spent mostly in silence. It was broken every now and then by casual conversation, but they would eventually relax back into quiet. 

Alana came by to give Abigail a ride, and she smiled widely at them when she saw that Hannibal and Will were there, both happy. She would assume Hannibal had made his apology, and had been forgiven.

Hannibal knew he still had a ways to go, though.


	48. House Warming

As Alana pulled away with Abigail, Will felt Hannibal pull him into an embrace from behind. Hannibal wrapped his arms around Will’s chest and abdomen, burying his face into Will’s neck. He breathed in deeply, and Will smiled.

“You okay?” he asked, laying a hand over Hannibal's on his side, “you’re not usually this clingy.”

Hannibal hummed into his neck.

“I was not usually feeling as if I had almost lost you,” Hannibal mumbled, kissing softly up his neck to behind his jaw, “and lost myself in the process.”

Will tipped his head to let Hannibal continue with his adoration. 

“You’re lucky you didn’t lose me,” he confessed, feeling an ache in his chest at the admission.

He had been close to letting them both die if it meant Hannibal would be punished. He had thought they would both deserve it, and he had wavered in his decision making, swinging between possibilities like a pendulum. They had both teetered on the edge of destruction because he had thought it would be just.

But now he had given in to his desires rather than his morals.

“You do trust me,” Hannibal said quietly, rubbing his nose in the hair behind Will’s ear.

Will scoffed, feeling guilty all the time. 

“I trust that you won’t hurt me or Abigail,” he agreed, “but there are a lot of things you still have to work out.”

Hannibal hummed in agreement. 

“I am content to know you do not fear me,” he replied, “and that I have not done anything to cause fear for you.”

Will smiled softly and closed his eyes. He leaned his head back and rested on Hannibal.

It was terrifying to trust Hannibal as much as Will did. He shouldn’t allow him to touch him, much less kiss him. Hannibal should be working to earn the privilege of Will’s company, because he had done so much to destroy the trust they had. 

“I should be afraid,” Will said, “I should be terrified that you can make me feel like this. That you can make me want to trust you. There must be something wrong with me.”

Hannibal smiled against Will’s skin, and Will felt him drag his sharp teeth across his pulse. 

“You are perfection, Will,” Hannibal murmured, “In every way, you elevate what it is to be human. What it means to be alive.”

Will laughed softly and shook his head.

“And you elevate what it means to be obsessive and cheesy,” Will replied, “Do you need to go home to get ready for work or something?”

Hannibal rumbled softly in his chest, and Will could feel it against his back. 

“I have some business to attend to, but I refuse to leave unless you accompany me. I am not ready to leave you yet.”

Will laughed again and pried himself from Hannibal’s grasp. He turned to face him, staring up into his maroon eyes.

Hannibal was telling the truth. He was afraid. He couldn’t leave, because he was afraid of losing Will. For once in all the time Will had known the man, Hannibal Lecter was insecure.

“Alright,” Will conceded, kissing him, “I’ll come over, but I have to take care of the dogs first, and tell the sitter I’ll need him to let them out in the morning.”

Hannibal smiled gratefully, and Will could see just how shaken he was by the time he had made them be apart. 

Will pulled away from Hannibal’s arms and went about making sure the dogs would be set for the night. They each tipped their heads at him, curious about his activity. He hadn’t left them overnight since he had gotten out of prison.

Once everything was set, Will packed an overnight bag and they headed out to the Bentley. Hannibal was still watching his every movement like he expected Will to vanish at any moment. He clasped Will’s hand and pressed a kiss to it before he started the car and pulled away.

They drove in silence for a while, just soaking in the presence of each other. 

It was odd to be in Hannibal’s car again. The thought of being in his home again was almost alien to Will. It had been so comfortable and natural before, he wondered if it would feel unfamiliar or unwelcoming now. It had been an odd while.

“It’s almost strange,” Hannibal said aloud, breaking the silence, “seeing you here beside me again. I had worried you never would be again.”

Will almost laughed, relieved that he wasn’t the only one who could feel the change.

“I don’t think either of us would survive without the other. Not now that we’ve met.”

Hannibal smiled at the thought, and hummed in happy agreement. 

“I worry it will be more strange for me to see you in places I have only had afterimages for so long,” Hannibal said.

Will laughed, but he was worried too.

“It hasn’t actually been that long,” he said, and it was true, despite how much it felt like a lie.

Hannibal was silent for another moment, and Will wondered if he was going to reply, or just let the words hang in the air until changing the subject.

“Any time is too long,” Hannibal said softly.

Will had to close his eyes to avoid either crying or pulling Hannibal into a kiss that would cause them to veer off the road and crash. 

It was true. Every moment they spent without the other had felt like agony in the purest form, and he wasn’t sure how he had kept his resolve to make Hannibal stay away while he was in prison. He had submitted them both to torture of the most emotionally and physically intense kind. He wasn’t sure Hannibal should ever forgive him for that, but he also knew Hannibal needed to change his behavior. He couldn’t become pliable like he had been again. It would do no good for either of them.

“I agree,” he said, simply. 

He turned his gaze out of the window so he wouldn’t have to fight the urge to drag Hannibal out of his seat and away from the steering wheel. He wouldn’t be able to stop himself from apologizing, and begging for forgiveness. It wouldn’t be good.

Hannibal’s house came into view, and Will felt his heart beat faster. He really shouldn’t be so worried. It was just a place.

Once they entered the foyer of the house, Will looked around a bit. 

It felt different, for sure. He felt like he still had yet to be accepted by the house, which may have been ridiculous, and may have just been in his head.

There was something that had actually changed, though. He could feel it, and his head was on a swivel as he tried to identify what it was.

There was a frame on the wall that hadn’t been there before. It was a shallow shadow box, and Will walked up to see that it displayed some fishing lures, much like the ones he made himself. He smiled as he looked over them. 

Just a bit farther down the wall, another frame contained a display of bits of rope tied into several different types of knots. Against the blue, it almost gave the feeling of being near a boat dock, and Will liked it.

“I will be in the study,” Hannibal said, smiling lightly when Will turned to him, “you are welcome to join me after you put your things in the bedroom.”

Will nodded, still smiling. 

“You mean you actually have work?” he teased, “and it wasn’t just an excuse to get me to come over?”

Hannibal kissed him softly.

“You were the one to suggest I might have to return home,” he reminded, “and I have promised not to lie to you again.”

Will hummed.

“True. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Hannibal nodded and headed into the study as Will made his way upstairs.

The bedroom was the most changed in Will’s absence. The walls had been repainted, so they were now a dark, forest green that made him feel instantly more at home. There were several bonsai trees around the room, softening the atmosphere further, and giving it a healthy natural scent. 

Will set down his bag and made his way to the study. Hannibal was sitting at his desk, writing on some papers and glancing up with a smile when Will walked in. 

Will walked right up to the desk and grabbed Hannibal by the lapels. He dragged the man up to a standing position and kissed him aggressively. Hannibal set his pen and papers onto the desk and raised his hands to cup around the back of Will’s neck. Will could feel his curiosity at his actions, and he couldn’t help himself.

“You sentimental cannibal,” he said when he pulled back, “I guess I’m not the only one who was changed. I changed you as much as you changed me.”

Hannibal’s eyes grew wet, and he kissed Will, gently but persistently.

“From the moment I met you, I knew you would change me. I could never have predicted just how much. You never cease to amaze me.”

Will laughed softly.

“Are you trying to claim love at first sight, Doctor Lecter?”

“No,” Hannibal answered, “not quite. What we have is more complex, and rare, and much more valuable. It goes beyond simple connection and conventional emotion.”

Will loved Hannibal so much, he felt like he might burst. There was no way this was normal, even for soulmates. There was no way they should fit so well together, and match so precisely. He had never heard of anything like this. 

It was theirs alone.


	49. Balanced

Hannibal went about making coffee, as it was the only thing Will allowed him to make. Even in his own kitchen, Hannibal had to let Will do the cooking. He hadn’t earned it yet. It was almost nerve wracking to watch Will cook without having the ability to do it instead. He wanted to serve Will, but he was not allowed it. 

Hannibal was still in awe of the fact that Will had not only noticed every small change he had made in the time he was gone, but that he had been so accepting and glad for it. Will had enjoyed walking through the entire house, pointing out each addition, and kissing Hannibal for it every time. Then they had slept, and Will had let Hannibal know how much he appreciated each of the gifts. Hannibal hadn’t had his temperature so under control in all his life. 

Now, in the one room that was unchanged, Will took control and had Hannibal at his disposal with nothing more than a soft command. Will knew where everything was, and moved around with ease. Hannibal watched him, admiring every movement. He just wished he could have been working alongside him. 

“Now,” Will said, turning off the stove as their eggs were done, “What did you do to the poor man who framed me? I can’t imagine it was anything pleasant.”

Hannibal’s pulse jumped with nervous excitement. He put down his cup of coffee and wet his lips. His hands grew slightly cold, and he looked down at them with a sigh.

“Would you like to see?” he asked softly.

Will tilted his head, but his expression was not upset. He was interested to see what Hannibal had done. Hannibal was almost jumpy as he walked to the pantry, and showed Will the trap door.

“Ah. I knew you had to have one somewhere,” Will mumbled, tracing the edge of the door with a finger, “You have it so well hidden.”

Hannibal’s heart thumped at the slight praise despite himself. He clasped Will’s hand in his, once again causing their temperatures to even out, pulled him gently down the stairs and turned the light on.

Will’s breath caught when everything came into view, and Hannibal searched his face, trying to decipher what he thought.

“You haven’t killed him,” Will said, and Hannibal thought he must be imagining the fondness in his voice.

Hannibal shuffled, clearing his throat and looking down at the floor. He had never felt so insecure about anything. Will was the only one he feared rejection from.

“He is not mine to kill,” Hannibal said honestly, “but I have caused him suffering for every moment I suffered due to his actions. I wanted to gift him to you this way.”

Will walked forward, and looked over the still form. The life was betrayed only by the slow rise and fall of his chest. Will ran a finger over the stump where the man’s arm had been. The one he had used to pull a bow over the vocal cords of the man he had killed. Will tapped his fingers along the severed flesh there, as if considering everything the missing limb had done to deserve being severed.

“Can he wake up?” Will asked, almost absently.

Hannibal nodded and stepped around to the man’s IV. He looked down at Tobias and felt the familiar stab of anger at what the man had done. The only thing that softened the emotion was the presence of Will, so near to him now.

“Would you like him to?” Hannibal asked.

Will stared down at the man’s face, his own features betraying no thoughts or emotions. For all Hannibal knew, Will might be planning to betray him again. His faith in Will kept him honest, and obedient. He trusted Will to work by his side.

“Yes,” he said, “I want to talk to him.”

Hannibal nodded and adjusted the flow of the drip. 

“It will take a few moments. No one can hear him from here. No matter what he does, no one will know aside from us.”

Will nodded. He rested his hands on the table next to the still form as it slowly began to stir. The restraints were tested in a hopeless habit. He had woken to being unable to move so many times he had all but given up at this point. His muscles were beginning to atrophy, and Hannibal couldn’t make himself feel bad for it. 

Tobias opened his eyes and flicked them between the two figures standing over him. Hannibal smiled politely at him.

“Welcome back, Mr. Budge.”

Tobias looked at Will, then, as if trying to figure out if he was a threat.

Will looked up to Hannibal expectantly.

“Will, may I introduce you to Tobias Budge? He owns an instrument shop in Baltimore. He has been my guest since just after the beginning of your incarceration. Tobias, this is Will Graham. I don’t believe you have formally met.”

Will looked down at Tobias with a raised eyebrow.

“I truly didn’t expect to ever have the chance to meet you face to face,” Will told him coldly.

Tobias blinked slowly, calculating.

“Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper,” he stated, “he has killed so many people. He can’t feel emotions. Do you believe he loves you?”

Ah. Tobias thought Will would be swayed to help him. He was trying to make Will question Hannibal.

Hannibal looked up at Will, who only continued to stare down at Tobias. It was odd for Hannibal to not be able to discern what Will was thinking and feeling. Will was usually the more expressive of them.

“You’re one to talk,” Will said quietly, “you have empty eyes. I don’t see anything behind them. Do you believe you could love anyone other than yourself?”

Tobias set his jaw, trying to think of something to say. Will spared him the trouble by continuing.

“You have killed so many people, Tobias. Maybe not as many as Hannibal, but still more than your fair share. You didn’t even have the decency to show the world your work. You kept it all to yourself until you set your eyes on  _ my _ soulmate,” Will said, his cool tone drawing Hannibal in like a spell, “and then you decided to betray him, thinking he would have empty eyes like you. Have you looked into Hannibal’s eyes, Tobias?”

Tobias flicked his gaze to Hannibal. Hannibal didn’t look down at him, entranced instead by how perfect Will looked, and how cruel he was.

“His eyes are unremarkable,” Tobias replied, furrowing his brow. He wasn’t sure why Will was asking this of him.

Will tisked lightly, dragging his fingers over the table next to Tobias’ ribs.

“That is why you are not worth the air you breathe,” Will said, “you can’t see what is right in front of you. Perhaps if you did, you wouldn’t be where you are now.”

“You’re like him,” Tobias said, sounding slightly awed, but mostly horrified as he realized just what kind of situation he was in.

“No,” Will said, “I’m not. You see, true cruelty requires real empathy. Hannibal doesn’t have as much empathy as most people, which makes what he does rather tame. I have far too much empathy, which is why you are going to wish he had killed you before I got out of the prison you put me in.”

Tobias swallowed hard, his eyes flicking between them again. He was afraid. Will was good at making people afraid, and Hannibal wanted to kiss him. He was even capable of making Hannibal afraid, which very few could boast of. 

Will glanced around before he looked back to Hannibal. He gestured to a tray of surgical tools set out nearby.

“May I?” he asked.

Hannibal only nodded, watching Will with more adoration than he thought he could possibly contain. He dared not stop Will now, though. He was too beautiful when he was calm and cruel. It would be even more beautiful to see him in a violent rage, but Hannibal was content with what the universe would give him.

Will pulled the tray closer and looked over his options.

“I think I’d like to relieve you of your dead eyes,” Will said calmly, “since they clearly aren’t doing you any good from where they are.”

He selected a few tools and walked around Tobias’ head as he planned out his next actions.

“From the moment I let myself meet Hannibal’s eyes, I could see they contained worlds beyond ours,” Will continued, more for his own benefit than that of Tobias, “have you seen them in candlelight? They shine like amber. My favorite is when it gets dark, and they turn red. I sometimes think I can see them glowing like a cat’s eyes. His eyes are a wonder to behold. I hope you appreciate how lucky you are to have ever set eyes on my soulmate.”

When Will began, Tobias couldn’t help the screams that erupted from his throat. Hannibal would not punish him for them, because he belonged to Will now. Everything Hannibal was or had belonged to Will. Tobias was the least of these.

Hannibal watched, admiring the way Will worked. He was not as precise as Hannibal, but it was perfect in his own way. 

Tobias eventually passed out from pain, fear, and likely blood loss. Will continued until the task was done, and two eyes with irises as black as charcoal sat on a tray next to their owner. He looked down at the face that now had two gaping holes, tipping his head in a way that reminded Hannibal of a wolf staring at a dying animal.

“Do you think he’ll survive that?” Will asked after a moment.

Hannibal stepped forward and surveyed the injury.

“Would you like him to?” he asked once more. 

Will considered it for a moment.

“I don’t care,” he said, “he doesn’t deserve to live. If you want to keep the meat fresh, then keep him alive. If you have what you want already, then let him die. I’m done with him.”

Will looked down at himself, seeing where the blood had gushed onto his hands and shirt. He stripped off his shirt and walked over to a sink to wash his hands. Hannibal watched him, willing to let Tobias die right then. Will was glorious.

When Will made his way to the stairs and Hannibal still hadn’t moved, he looked back at him over his shoulder.

“You coming?” he asked.

Hannibal followed him up the stairs, feeling lost without Will’s presence. He most certainly did have what he wanted.

When they stood once again in the kitchen, the smell of freshly cooked food still hanging in the air, Will shook his head with a smile.

“Let’s eat before the food gets cold,” he said, picking up the plates and carrying them to the table.

Hannibal sat down with him and ate the food Will had made for them both. It was good, and Hannibal was sure he had never loved Will more than he had in that moment. He wondered if Will could see it in his eyes as he looked at him. Hannibal was entirely distracted by the fact that Will was no longer wearing a shirt, and he still smelled of blood. It was intoxicating.

After a few minutes of eating in silence, Will started to smile. He tried to push it down, making his face crinkle in the most adorable way until he gave in and just laughed.

Hannibal didn’t know why he was laughing, but he was entirely enchanted.

“You are such a sentimental bastard,” Will said, looking back at him with such affection Hannibal could almost feel it, “and I couldn’t love you more in this moment.”

Will pulled him into a kiss, and Hannibal gripped Will’s jaw and neck to keep him there. They pulled apart after a moment, foreheads pressed together as they panted into each other.

“Technically,” Hannibal breathed, “You killed him.”

Will laughed, and his torso shook with it. His face broke into a grin, and he looked genuinely happy. Hannibal wanted to preserve it in amber. Will’s happiness.

“And I would do it again,” Will said, “if anyone got between us. I will kill anyone who tries.”

Hannibal kissed him again, desperate for him. 

“I will help you. I will protect you when you need it, and admire you always. I will follow you.”

It was a promise. They both knew it. 

And Hannibal always kept his promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> Thank you for reading. I know I could have kept this story going for much longer. Maybe someday I'll come back and write a sequel, but for now this is it. 
> 
> I've got lots where that came from, so feel free to check out my other fics. I'm always working on something new, too, so you don't have to wait long for more if you are caught up on what I've posted.
> 
> Thanks.


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